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EMILIA    IN    ENGLAND 


BY 


GEORGE    MEREDITH 

AUTHOR  OF  "EVAN  HARRINGTON""  "THE  ORDEAL  OF  RICHARD  FEVEREL  ' 
"the  shaving  of  SHAGPAT" 


IN  THREE  VOLUMES 


VOL.  IIL 


LONDON: 

CHAPMAN  &  HALL,   193,  PICCADILLY. 

1864. 

[The  right  of  Translation  is  reservtd.'\ 


LOKDON : 
ERADBCRY   AND   EVANS,   PRINTERS,    WHITEFRIARS. 


823  ^^1- 

V.3 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

PAGE 

Emilia's  flight 1 

CHAPTER  II. 

SHE   CLINGS   TO   HER  VOICE 30 

•  CHAPTER   III. 

HER   VOICE   FAILS  .  , 48 

CHAPTER   lY. 

^HE  TASTES   DESPAIR 66 

CHAPTER  V. 

SHE   IS   FOUND 92 

CHAPTER   YL 

DEFECTION  OF  MR,   PERICLES  FROM  THE  BROOKFIELD   CIRCLE 

CHAPTER  YII. 

IN   WHICH   WE   SEE   WILFRID   KINDLING 123 

CHAPTER  YIII. 

ON   THE   HIPPOGRIFF   IN   AIR  :    IN   WHICH   THE    PHILOSOPHER 

HAS   A   SHORT   INNINGS 139 

CHAPTER  IX. 

ON   THE   HIPPOGRIFF   ON   E.iRTH 145 

CHAPTER  X. 

RAPE  OF  THE  ELACK-ERIONT  WREATH 151 


IV  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XI. 

PAGE 
THE   CALL  TO   ACTION 160 

CHAPTER  XII. 

CONTAINS  A  FURTHER  VIEW  OF   SENTIMEN-T      .  .  .      .      174 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

BETWEEN  EMILIA  AND   GEORGIANA 184 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

EMILIA   BEGINS   TO   FEEL  MERTHYR'S   POWER     .  .  .       .       196 

CHAPTER  XV. 

A   CHAPTER   INTERRUPTED   BY   THE   PHILOSOPHER  .  .  .      208 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

A   FRESH   DUET   BETWEEN   WILFRID  AND  EMILIA         .  .       .      212 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
alderman's  BOUQUET 230 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE  EXPLOSION  AT  BROOKFIELD 241 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE   TRAGEDY   OF   SENTIMENT 254 

CHAPTER  XX. 

AN  ADVANCE  AND   A  CHECK 281 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

CONTAINS   A   FURTHER  ANATOMY   OF   WILFRID         .  .  .       303 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

FROST   ON  THE  MAY  NIGHT 311 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

EMILIA'S  GOOD-BYE 322 


EMILIA  IN   ENGLAND, 


CHAPTER  I. 

Emilia's  flight. 


A  KNOCK  at  Mertbyr's  chamber  called  bim  out 
Tvbile  be  sat  writing  to  Marini  on  tbe  national  busi- 
ness. He  beard  Georgiana's  voice  begging  bim  to 
come  to  ber  quickly.  When  be  saw  ber  face  tbe 
stain  of  tears  was  tbere. 

"  Anything  tbe  matter  witb  Charlotte  ?  "  was  bis 
first  question. 

"  Xo.  But,  come  :  I  will  tell  you  on  tbe  way. 
Do  not  look  at  me.''^ 

"  Xo  personal  matter  of  any  kind  ?  " 

"  Ob,  no !  I  can  have  none  ;"  and  she  took  bis 
band  for  a  moment. 

They  passed  into  the  dark  windy  street  smelling 
of  the  sea. 

"  Emilia  is  here,"  said  Georgiana.     "  I  want  you 

VOL.    III.  B 


»  EMILIA    IX    ENGLAND. 

to  persuade  her — you  will  have  influence  with  her. 
Oh,  Merthyr  !  my  darling  brother  !  I  thank  God  I 
love  my  brother  with  all  ni}^  love  !  What  a  dreadful 
thing  it  is  for  a  woman  to  love  a  man." 

"  I  suppose  it  is,  while  she  has  nothing  else  to 
do,"  said  Merthyr.     "  How  did  she  come  ? — why  ?  " 

"  If  you  had  seen  Emilia  to-night,  you  would  have 
felt  that  the  difi'erence  is  absolute."  Georgiana 
dealt  first  with  the  general  case.  "  She  came,  I 
think,  by  some  appointment." 

"Also  just  as  absolute  between  her  and  her  sex," 
he  rejoined,  controlling  himself,  not  to  be  less  cool. 
"  What  has  happened  ?  '' 

Georgiana  pointed  to  the  hotel  whither  their  steps 
were  bent.  "  That  is  where  Charlotte  sleeps.  Her 
going  there  was  not  a  freak;  she  had  an  object. 
She  wished  to  cure  Emilia  of  her  love  for  Mr. 
Wilfrid  Pole.  Emilia  had  come  down  to  see  him. 
Charlotte  put  her  in  an  adjoining  room  to  hear  him 
sa}- — what  I  presume  they  do  say  when  the  fit  is  on 
them  !     Was  it  not  singular  folly  ? '' 

It  was  a  folly  that  Merthyr  could  not  understand 
in  his  friend  Charlotte.  He  said  so,  and  then  he 
gave  a  kindly  sad  exclamation  of  Emilia's  name. 

"  You  do  pity  her  still ! "  cried  Georgiana,  her 
heart  leaping  to  hear  it  expressed  so  simply. 


EMILIAS   FLIGHT.  9 

"  Why,  what  other  feehng  can  I  have  ?  ^'  said  he, 
unsuspiciously. 

*'  No,  dear  MerthjT,^^  she  replied ;  and  only  by 
her  tone  he  read  the  little  guilty  rejoicing  in  her 
heart,  marvelling  at  jealousy  that  could  twist  so 
straight  a  stem  as  his  sister's  spirit.  This  had 
taught  her,  who  knew  nothing  of  love,  that  a  man 
loving  does  not  pity  in  such  a  case. 

"  I  hope  you  will  find  her  here  :  "  Georgiana  hur- 
ried her  steps.  "  Say  anything  to  comfort  her.  I 
will  have  her  with  me,  and  try  and  teach  her  w^hat 
self-control  means,  and  how  it  is  to  be  won.  If  ever 
she  can  act  on  the  stage  as  she  spoke  to-night,  she 
will  be  a  great  dramatic  genius.  She  was  trans- 
formed. She  uses  strange  forcible  expressions  that 
one  does  not  hear  in  every-day  life.  She  crushed 
Charlotte  as  if  she  had  taken  her  up  in  one  hand, 
and  without  any  display  at  all :  no  gestui'e,  or  spasm. 
I  noticed,  as  they  stood  together,  that  there  is  such 
a  contrast  between  animal  courage  and  imaginative 
fire." 

"  Charlotte  could  meet  a  great  occasion,  I  should 
think,^'  said  MerthjT ;  and,  taking  his  sister  by  the 
elbow :  "  You  speak  as  if  you  had  observed  very 
coolly.  Did  Emilia  leave  you  so  cold  ?  Did  she 
seem  to*  speak  from  head,  not  from  heart  ?  " 

Oik 


4  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

"  No  ;  she  moved  me — poor  child  !  Only,  how 
humiliating  to  hear  her  beg  for  love  ! — before  us." 

Merthyr  smiled :  "  I  thought  it  must  be  the 
woman's  feeling  that  would  interfere  to  stop  a 
natural  emotion.  Is  it  true — or  did  I  not  see  that 
certain  eyes  were  red  just  now  ?  '"' 

*'  That  was  for  him,"  said  Georgiana,  hastily.  *'  I 
am  sure  that  no  man  has  stood  in  such  a  position  as 
he  did.  To  see  a  man  made  publicly  ashamed,  and 
bearing  it.  I  have  never  had  to  endure  so  painful 
a  sight." 

*'  To  stand  between  two  women,  claimed  by  both, 
like  Solomon's  babe  !  A  man  might  as  well  at  once 
have  Solomon's  judgment  put  into  execution  upon 
him.  You  wept  for  him  !  Do  you  know,  Georgey, 
that  charity  of  your  sex,  which  makes  you  cry  at 
any  '  affecting  situation,'  must  have  been  designed 
to  compensate  to  us  for  the  severities  of  Providence." 

" No,  Merthyr ;"  she  arrested  his  raillery.  "Do 
I  ever  cry  ?  but  I  thought — if  it  had  been  my 
brother  !  and  almost  at  the  thought  I  felt  the  tears 
rush  at  my  eyelids,  as  if  the  shame  had  been 
mine." 

"  The  probability  of  its  not  being  your  brother 
seemed  distant  at  the  moment,"  said  Merthyr,  with 
kis  half  melancholy  smile.     "  Tell  me — I  Can  con- 


EMILIA  S    FLIGHT.  0 

jure  up  the  scene  :  but  tell  me  whether  3^ou  saw 
more  passions  than  one  in  her  face  ?  " 

"Emilia's?  No.  Her  face  reminded  me  of  the 
sombre — that  dull  glow  of  a  fire  that  you  leave 
burning  in  the  grate  late  on  winter  nights.  Was 
that  natural  ?  It  struck  me  that  her  dramatic 
instinct  was  as  much  alive  as  her  passion." 

"  Had  she  been  clums}^  would  you  not  have  been 
less  suspicious  of  her  ?  And  if  she  had  only  shown 
the  accustomed  northern  retenue,  and  merely 
looked  all  that  she  had  to  say — 'preserved  her 
dignity' — our  womanly  critic  would  have  been  com- 
pletely satisfied." 

"  But,  Merth}T,  to  parade  her  feelings,  and  then 
to  go  on  appealing  !  " 

**  On  the  principle  that  she  ought  to  be  ashamed 
of  them,  she  was  wrong." 

*'  If  you  had  heard  her  utter  abandonment !  " 

"  I  can  believe  that  she  did  not  blush." 

"  It  seems  to  me  to  belong  to  those  excesses  that 
prompt — that  are  in  themselves  a  species  of  suicide." 

"Love  is  said  to  be  the  death  of  self." 

"  No  ;  but  I  must  use  cant  words,  Merthyr ;  I  do 
wish  to  see  modesty.     Yes,  I  know  I  must  be  right.*' 

"  There  is  very  little  of  it  to  be  had  in  a  tropical 
storm." 


6  EMILIA    IN   ENGLAND. 

"  You  admit,  then,  that  this  sort  of  love  is  a  storm 
that  passes  ? '' 

"  It  passes,  I  hope/' 

"  But  where  is  yom-  defence  of  her  now  ?  " 

"  Have  I  defended  her  ?  I  need  not  try.  A  man 
has  deceived  her,  and  she  doesn't  think  it  possible  ; 
and  has  said  so,  I  presume.  "When  she  sees  it,  she 
will  be  quieter  than  most.  She  will  not  reproach 
him  subsequently.  Here  is  the  hotel,  and  that  must 
be  Charlotte's  room,  if  I  may  judge  by  the  lights. 
What  pranks  will  she  alwaj^s  be  playing  !  We  seem 
to  have  brought  new  elements  into  the  little  town. 
Do  you  remember  Bergamo  the  night  the  Austrian 
trooped  out  of  Milan  ? — one  light  that  was  a  thou- 
sand in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  !  " 

Having  arrived,  he  ran  hastily  up  to  the  room, 
expecting  to  find  the  three ;  but  Lady  Charlotte 
was  alone,  sitting  in  her  chair  with  knotted  arms. 
"  Ah,  Merthyr  ! "  she  said,  "  I'm  sorry  you  should 
have  been  disturbed.  I  perceived  what  Georgey's 
leaving  the  room  meant.  I  suppose  the  hotel  people 
are  used  to  yachting-parties.'^  And  then,  not  seeing 
any  friendly  demonstration  on  his  part,  she  folded 
her  arms  in  another  knot.  Georgiana  asked  where 
Emilia  was.  Lady  Charlotte  replied  that  Emilia 
had  gone,  and  then  Wilfrid  had  followed  her,  one 


EMILIA  S    FLIGHT.  7 

minute  later,  to  get  her  into  shelter  somewhere. 
"  Or  put  penknives  out  of  her  way.  I  am  rather 
fatigued  with  a  scene,  Merthyr.  I  never  had  an 
idea  before  of  what  your  southern  women  were. 
One  plays  decidedly  second  to  them  while  the  fit 
lasts.  Of  course,  you  have  a  notion  that  I  planned 
the  whole  of  the  absurd  business.  This  is  the  case : 
— I  found  the  girl  on  the  beach  :  she  follows  him 
everywhere,  which  is  bad  for  her  reputation,  because 
in  this  climate  people  suspect  positive  reasons  for 
that  kind  of  female  devotedness.  So,  to  put  an  end 
to  it — really  for  her  own  sake,  quite  as  much  as  any- 
thing else — am  I  a  monster  of  insensibility,  Merthyr? 
— I  made  her  swear  an  oath — one  must  be  a  point 
above  wild  animals  to  feel  that  to  be  binding,  how- 
ever !  I  made  her  swear  to  listen  and  remain  there 
silent  till  I  opened  the  door  to  set  her  at  liberty. 
She  consented — gave  her  word  solemnly.  I  calcu- 
lated that  she  might  faint,  and  fixed  her  in  an  arm- 
chair. Was  that  cruel  ?  Merthyr,  j^ou  have  called 
me  Austrian  more  than  once  ;  but,  upon  my  honour, 
I  wanted  her  to  get  over  her  delusion  comfortably. 
I  thought  she  would  have  kept  the  oath,  I  confess ; 
she  looked  up  like  a  child  when  she  was  making 
it.  YouVe  heard  the  rest  from  Georgey.  I  must 
say  the  situation  was  rather  hard  on  Wilfrid.     If  he 


8  EI^nLIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

blames  me  it  will  be  excusable,  thougli  what  I  did 
plan  was  to  save  him  from  a  situation  somewhat 
worse.  So  now  j^ou  know  the  whole,  Merthyr. 
Commence  your  lecture.  Make  me  a  martyr  to  the 
sorrows  of  Italy  once  more." 

Merthyr  took  her  wrist,  feeling  the  quick  pulse, 
and  dropped  it.  She  was  effectually  humbled  by  this 
direct  method  of  dealing  with  her  secret  heart. 
After  some  commonplace  remarks  had  passed,  she 
herself  urged  him  to  send  out  men  in  search  for 
Emilia.  Before  he  went,  she  murmured  a  soft 
"  Forgive  me."  The  pressure  of  her  fingers  was 
replied  to,  but  the  words  were  not  spoken. 

"  There,"  she  cried,  to  Georgiana,  "  I  have  of- 
fended the  only  man  for  whose  esteem  I  care  one 
particle  !     Devote  yourself  to  your  friends  ! '' 

"  How  ? — '  devote  yourself ! '  "  murmured  Geor- 
giana, astonished. 

"Do  you  think  I  should  have  got  into  this  hobble 
if  I  hadn't  wished  to  serve  some  one  else  ?  You 
must  have  seen  that  Merth3'r  has  a  sentimental 
sort  of  fondness — call  it  passion — for  this  girl. 
She's  his  Italy  in  the  flesh.  Is  there  a  more  civi- 
lized man  in  the  world  than  Merthyr  ?  So  he 
becomes  fascinated  by  a  savage.  We  all  play  the 
game  of  opposites — or  like  to,  and  no  woman  in  his 


EMILIAS   FLIGHT.  9 

class  will  ever  catch  him.  I  couldn't  have  believed 
that  he  was  touched  by  a  girl,  but  for  two  or  three 
recent  indications.  You  must  have  noticed  that  he 
has  given  up  reading  others,  and  he  objected  the 
other  day  to  a  responsible  office  which  would  have 
thrown  him  into  her  neighbourhood  alone.  These 
are  unmistakeable  signs  in  Merthyr,  though  he 
has  never  been  in  love,  and  doesn't  understand 
his  case  a  bit.  Tell  me,  do  you  think  it  im- 
possible ?  " 

Georgiana  answered  dr3dy,  *'  You  have  fallen  into 
a  fresh  mistake." 

"  Exactly.  Then  let  me  rescue  you  from  a  simi- 
lar fatality,  Georgey.  If  your  eyes  are  bandaged 
now  .  .  ." 

"  Are  you  going  to  be  devoted  to  me  also, 
Charlotte  ?  " 

*'  I  believe  I'm  a  miracle  of  devotion,"  said  the 
lady,  retiring  into  indifferent  topics  upon  that 
phrase.  She  had  at  any  rate  partially  covered  the 
figure  of  ridicule  presented  to  her  feminine  imagina- 
tion by  the  aspect  of  her  fair  self  exposed  in  public 
contention  with  one  of  her  sex — and  for  a  man.  It 
was  enough  to  make  her  pulse  and  her  brain  lively. 
On  second  thoughts,  too,  it  had  struck  her  that  she 
might  be  serving  Merthyr  in  disengaging  Emilia; 


10  e:siilia  in  England. 

and  undoubtedly  she  served  Georgiana  by  giving 
her  a  warning.  Through  this  silliness  went  the 
current  of  a  clear  mind,  nevertheless.  The  lady's 
heart  was  justified  in  cr3dng  out:  "  What  would  I 
not  abandon  for  my  friend  in  his  need  ?  "  Meantime 
her  battle  in  her  own  behalf  looked  less  pleasing  by 
the  light  of  new  advantages.  The  question  recurred : 
'*  Shall  I  care  to  win  at  all  ?  "  She  had  to  force  the 
idea  of  a  violent  love  to  excuse  her  proceedings. 
To  get  up  any  flame  whatsoever,  an  occasional  blast 
of  jealousy  had  to  be  called  for.  Jealousy  was  a 
quality  she  could  not  admit  as  possible  to  her.  So 
she  acted  on  herself  by  an  agent  she  repudiated, 
and  there  was  no  help  for  it.  Had  Wilfrid  loved 
her,  the  woman's  heart  was  ready.  It  was  ready 
with  a  trembling  tenderness,  softer  and  deeper  than 
a  girl's.  For  Charlotte  w^ould  have  felt :  "  With 
this  love  that  I  have  craved  for,  you  give  me  life.*' 
And  she  would  have  thanked  him  for  both,  exult- 
ingly,  to  feel :  "  I  can  repay  yon  as  no  girl  could  do; " 
though  she  had  none  of  the  rage  of  love  to  give ; 
as  it  was,  she  thought  conscientiously  that  she  could 
help  him.  She  liked  him :  his  peculiar  suppleness 
of  a  growing  mind,  his  shrouded  sensibility,  in  con- 
junction with  his  reputation  for  an  evidently  quite 
reliable,  prompt  courage,  and  the  mask  he  wore, 


Emilia's  flight.  11 

which  was  to  her  transparent,  i^leased  her  and 
touched  her  fancy.  Nor  was  he  so  vain  of  his  per- 
son as  to  make  him  seem  like  a  boy  to  her.  He 
affected  maturity.  He  could  pass  a  mirror  on  his 
right  or  his  left  without  an  abstracted  look  over 
either  shoulder ; — a  poor  example,  but  worth  some- 
thing to  a  judge  of  young  men.  Indeed,  had  she 
chosen  from  a  crowd,  the  choice  would  have  been 
one  of  his  age.  She  was  too  set  for  an  older 
man ;  but  a  youth  aspiring  to  be  older  than  he 
was ;  whose  faults  she  saw  and  forgave ;  whose 
merits  supplied  two  or  three  of  her  own  defi- 
ciencies ;  whom  her  station  might  help  to  elevate  ; 
to  whom  she  might  come  as  a  benefactress ;  feeling 
so  while  she  accomplished -her  own  desire; — such 
a  youth  was  everything  to  her,  as  she  awoke  to 
discover  after  having  played  with  him  a  season.  If 
she  lost  him,  what  became  of  her  ?  Even  if  she  had 
rejoiced  in  a  mother  to  plot  and  play, — to  bait  and 
snare  for  her,  her  time  was  slipping,  and  the  choosers 
among  her  class  were  wary.  Her  spirit,  besides, 
was  high  and  elective.  It  was  gradually  stooping  to 
nature,  but  would  never  have  bowed  to  a  fool,  or, 
save  under  protest,  to  one  who  gave  all.  On  Wilfrid 
she  had  fixed  her  mind  :  so,  therefore,  she  bore  the 
remembrance  of  the   recent   scene    without   much 


12  EMILIA   IN    ENGLAND. 

fretting  at  her  burdens ; — the  more,  that  Wilfrid 
had  in  no  way  shamed  her ;  and  the  more,  that  the 
heat  of  EmiHa's  love  i^layed  round  him  and  illu- 
mined him.  This  borrowing  of  the  passion  of 
another  is  not  uncommon. 

At  daybreak  Mrs.  Chump  was  abroad.  She  had 
sat  up  for  Wilfrid  almost  through  the  night.  "  Oh ! 
the  arr'stocracy ! "  she  breathed  exclamations,  as 
she  swept  along  the  esplanade.  "  I'll  be  killed  and 
murdered  if  I  tell  a  word."  Meeting  Captain 
Gambler,  she  fell  into  a  great  agitation,  and  ex- 
plained it  as  an  anxiety  she  entertained  for  Wilfrid ; 
when,  becoming  entangled  in  the  mesh  of  ques- 
tions, she  told  all  she  knew,  and  nearly  as  much  as 
she  suspected:  which  fatal  step  to  retrieve,  she 
entreated  his  secrec3\  Adela  w^as  now  seen  flut- 
tering hastily  up  the  walk,  fresh  as  a  creature  of 
the  sea-wave.  Before  Mrs.  Chump  could  summon 
her  old  wrath  of  yesterday,  she  was  kissed,  and 
to  the  arch  interrogation  as  to  what  she  had  done 
with  this  young  lady's  brother,  replied  by  telling 
the  tale  of  the  night  again.  Mrs.  Chump  was 
ostentatiously  caressed  into  a  more  comfortable 
opinion  of  the  world's  morality,  for  the  nonce. 
Invited  by  them  to  breakfast  at  the  hotel,  she 
hurried  back  to  her  villa  for  a  flounced  dress  and 


E^nOA'S    FLIGHT.  13 

a  lace  cap  of  some  pretensions,  while  they  paced 
the  shore. 

"  See  what  may  be  said  !  ^'  Adela's  countenance 
changed  as  she  muttered  it.  "  Thought  would  be 
enough/'  she  added,  shuddering. 

*'  Yes ;  if  one  is  off  guard — careless,"  the  captain 
assented,  flowingly. 

**  Can  one  in  earnest  be  other  than  careless  ?  I 
shall  walk  on  that  line  up  to  the  end.  Who  makes 
me  deviate  is  my  enemy  !  " 

The  playful  little  person  balanced  herself  to  make 
one  foot  follow  the  other  along  a  piece  of  washed 
grey  rope  on  the  shingle.  Soon  she  had  to  stretch 
out  her  hand  for  help,  and  the  Captain  at  full  arm's 
length  conducted  her  to  the  final  knot. 

"  Arrived  safe  !  "  she  said,  smiling. 

"  But  not  disengaged/'  he  rejoined,  in  similar  style. 

**  Please  ! "  She  doubled  her  elbow  to  give  a 
little  tug  for  her  fingers. 

"  No."     He  pressed  them  tighter. 

"Pray?" 

*'No.'' 

"  Must  I  speak  to  somebody  else  to  get  me  re- 
leased?" 

"  Would  you  ?  " 

"  Must  I  ?  " 


14  EMILIA  IN    ENGLAND. 

"  Thank  Heaven,  he  is  not  yet  in  existence  !  " 

'  Husband  '  being  implied.  Games  of  this  sweet 
sort  are  warranted  to  carry  little  people  as  far  as 
they  may  go  swifter  than  any  other  invention  of 
lively  Satan. 

The  yachting  party,  including  Mrs.  Chump,  were 
at  the  breakfast-table,  and  that  dumb  guest  had  done 
all  the  blushing  for  Lady  Charlotte,  when  Wilfrid 
entered,  neat,  carefully  brushed,  and  with  ready 
answers,  though  his  face  could  i)ut  on  no  fresh 
colours.  To  Mrs.  Chump  he  bent,  passing,  and 
was  pushed  away  and  drawn  back.  "  Your  eyes  ! " 
she  whispered. 

"  My  —  yeyes  !  "  went  Wilfrid,  in  school-boy 
style ;  and  she,  who  rarely  laughed,  was  struck 
by  his  humorous  skill,  sajdng  to  Sir  Twickenham, 
beside  her :  "  He's  as  cunnin  as  a  lord  !" 

Sir  Twickenham  expressed  his  ignorance  of 
lords  having  usurped  priority  in  that  department. 
Frightened  by  his  portentous  parliamentary  phra- 
seology, she  remained  tolerably  demure  till  the 
sitting  was  over  :  now,  sidling  in  her  heart  to  the 
sins  of  the  great,  whom  anon  she  angrily  reproached. 
Her  principal  idea  was,  that  as  the  world  was  dis- 
covered to  be  so  wicked,  they  were  all  in  a  boat 
going  to  perdition,  and  it  would  be  as  well  to  jump 


Emilia's  flight.  15 

out  immediately :  but  while  so  resolving,  she  hung 
upon  Lady  Charlotte's  looks  and  little  speeches, 
altogether  seduced  by  so  fresh  and  frank  a  sinner. 
If  safe  from  temptation,  here  was  the  soul  of  a 
woman  in  great  danger  of  corruption. 

"  Among  the  aristocracy,"  thought  Mrs.  Chump, 
*'it's  just  the  male  that  hangs  his  head,  and  the 
female  struts  and  is  sprightly."  The  contrast  be- 
tween Lady  Charlotte  and  Wilfrid  (who  when  he 
ceased  to  act  outrageously,  sat  like  a  man  stricken 
by  a  bolt),  produced  this  reflection :  and  in  spite  of 
her  disastrous  vision  of  the  fate  of  the  boat  they  were 
in,  Mrs.  Chump  owned  to  the  intoxication  of  gliding 
smoothly — gliding  on  the  rapids. 

The  breakfast  was  coming  to  an  end,  when 
Braintop's  name  was  sent  in  to  Mrs.  Chump.  She 
gave  a  cry  of  motherly  compassion  for  Braintop,  and 
began  to  relate  the  little  deficiencies  of  his  temper, 
while,  as  it  were,  simmering  on  her  seat  to  go  to 
him.  Wilfrid  sent  out  word  for  him  to  appear, 
which  he  did,  unluckily  for  himseK,  even  as  Mrs. 
Chump  wound  up  tlie  public  description  of  his  cha- 
racter by  remarking:  "  He's  just  the  opposite  of  a 
lord,  now,  in  everything."  Braintop  stood  bowing 
like  the  most  faithful  confirmation  of  an  opinion 
ever  seen.     He  looked  the  victim  of  fatip[ue,  in  the 


16  EMILIA    IN    ENGLAND. 

bargain.  A  light  broke  on  Mrs.  Chump.  'TU  never 
forgive  myself,  ye  poor  gentle  heart,  to  throw  pens 
and  pen-wipers  at  ye,  that  did  your  best,  poor 
boy  !  What  have  ye  been  doin'  ?  and  why  didn't  ye 
return,  and  not  go  hoppin  about  all  night  like  a 
young  kangaroo,  as  they  say  they  do  ?  Have  ye  read 
the  '  Arcana  of  Nature  and  Science,'  ma'am  ?  " 

The  Hon.  Mrs.  Bayruffle,  thus  abruptly  addressed, 
observed  that  she  had  not,  and  was  it  an  amusing 
book? 

"  Becas,  it  '11  open  your  mind,"  pursued  Mrs. 
Chump ;  "  and  there,  he's  eatin'  !  and  when  a  man 
takes  to  eating  ye'll  naver  have  anny  fear  about  his 
abouts.  And  if  ye  read  the  '  iVrcana  of  Nature  and 
Science^  ma'am,  yell  first  feel  that  ye've  gone  half 
mad.  For  it  contains  averything  in  the  world  ;  and 
ye'll  read  ut  ten  times  all  through,  and  not  remem- 
ber five  lines  runnin' !  Oh,  it's  a  dreadful  book : 
and  that's  the  book  to  read  to  your  husband  when 
he's  got  a  fit  o'  the  gout.  He's  got  nothin'  to  do  but 
swallow  knolludge  then.  Now,  Mr.  Braintop,  don't 
stop,  but  tell  me  as  ye  go  on  what  ye  did  with  your- 
self all  night." 

A  slight  hesitation  in  Braintox)  caused  her  to 
cross-examine  him  rigidly,  suggesting  that  he  might 
not  dare  to  tell,  and  he,  exercising  some  self-corn- 


EMILIAS   FLIGHT.  17 

mand,  adopted  narrative  as  the  less  ignominious 
form  of  confession.  No  one  save  Mrs.  Chump  lis- 
tened to  him  until  he  mentioned  the  name  Miss 
Belloni ;  and  then  it  was  curious  to  see  the  steadi- 
ness with  which  certain  eyes,  feigning  abstraction, 
fixed  in  his  direction.  He  had  met  Emilia  on  the 
outskirts  of  the  town,  and  unable  to  persuade  her  to 
take  shelter  anywhere,  had  walked  on  with  her  in 
dead  silence  through  the  night,  to  the  third  station 
of  the  railway  towards  London. 

"  Is  this  a  mad  person  ?  "  asked  the  Hon.  Mrs. 
Bay  ruffle. 

Adela  shrugged.  "  A  genius." 
"  Don't  eat  with  the  tips  of  your  teeth,  like  a  bird, 
Mr.  Braintop,  for  no  company  minds  your  eatin','' 
cried  Mrs.  Chump,  angrily  and  encouragingly : 
*'  and  this  little  Belloni — my  belief  is  that  she  came 
after  you  ;  and  what  have  ye  done  with  her  ?  " 

It  was  queerly  worried  out  of  Braintop),  who  was 
trying  his  best  all  the  time  to  be  obedient  to  Wilfrid's 
direct  eye,  that  the  two  wanderers  by  night  had  lost 
themselves  in  lanes,  refreshed  themselves  with  pur- 
loined apples  from  the  tree  at  dawn,  obtained  a 
draught  of  morning  milk,  with  a  handful  of  damsons 
apiece,  and  that  nothing  would  persuade  Emilia  to 
turn  back  from  the  route  to  London.     Braintop  bit 

VOL.    III.  C 


18  E^riLIA   IN    ENGLAND. 

daintily  at  his  toast,  nnwilling  to  proceed  under  the 
discouraging  expression  of  Wilfrid's  face,  and  the 
meditative  silence  of  two  or  three  others.  The  dis- 
covery was  forcibly  extracted  that  Emilia  had  no 
money; — that  all  she  had  in  her  possession  was 
sevenpence  and  a  thimble ;  and  that  he,  Braintop, 
had  but  a  few  shillings,  which  she  would  not 
accept. 

"  And  what  has  become  of  her  ?  '^  was  asked. 

Braintop  stated  that  she  had  returned  to  London, 
and,  blushing,  confessed  that  he  had  given  her  his 
return  ticket. 

Georgian  a  here  interposed  to  save  him  from  the 
awful  encomiums  of  Mrs.  Chump,  by  desiring  to 
know  whether  Emilia  seemed  unhappy  or  distressed. 
Braintop's  spirited  reply,  "Not  at  all,"  was  corrected 
to  :  "  She  did  not  crj^ ;  "  and  further  modified  :  "  That 
is,  she  called  out  sharply  when  I  whistled  an  o-peva 
tune.'' 

Lady  Charlotte  put  a  stop  to  the  subject  by  rising 
pointedly.  Watch  in  hand,  she  questioned  the 
ladies  as  to  their  occupations,  and  told  them  what 
time  they  had  to  dispose  of.  Then  Barnes,  captain 
of  the  yacht,  heard  to  be  outside,  was  summoned  in. 
He  pronounced  doubtfully  about  the  weather,  but 
admitted  that  there  was  plenty  of  wind,  and  if  the 


Emilia's  flight.  19 

ladies  did  not  mind  it  a  little  fresh,  he  was  sure  he 
did  not.  Wind  was  favourable  for  the  island  head- 
quarters of  the  yacht.  "  We'll  see  who  gets  there 
first,"  she  said  to  Wilfrid,  and  the  company  learnt 
that  Wilfrid  was  going  to  other  head -quarters  on 
special  business,  whereupon  there  followed  chatter 
and  exclamations.  Wilfrid  quickly  explained  that 
his  father^s  condition  called  him  away  imperiously. 
To  Adela  and  Mrs.  Chump,  demanding  peculiar 
personal  explanations,  he  gave  reassuring  reasons 
separately,  aside.  Mrs.  Chump  understood  that 
this  was  merely  his  excuse  to  get  away,  that  he 
might  see  her  safe  to  Brookfield.  Adela  only  re- 
quired a  look  and  a  gesture.  Merthyr  and  Geor- 
giana  likewise  spoke  expected  adieux,  as  did  Sir 
Twickenham,  who  parted  company  in  his  own  little 
yawl.  Lady  Charlotte,  with  her  head  over  a  map, 
and  one  hand  arranging  an  eye-glass,  hastily  nodded 
them  off,  scarcely  looking  at  them.  She  allowed 
herself  to  be  diverted  from  this  study  for  an  instant 
by  the  unbefitting  noise  made  by  Adela  for  the  loss 
of  her  brother ;  not  that  she  objected  to  the  noise 
particularly  (it  was  modulated  and  delicate  in  tone), 
but  that  she  could  not  understand  it.  Seeing  Sir 
Twickenham,  however,  in  a  leave-taking  attitude 
she  uttered  an  easy  *'  Oh  !  "  to  herself,  and  diligently 

c  2 


20  EMILIA    IX    ENGLAND. 

recommenced  spying  at  ports  and  harbours,  and  fol- 
lowing the  walnut  thumb  of  Barnes  on  the  map.  All 
seemed  to  be  perfectly  correct  in  the  arrangements. 
To  go  to  London  was  Wilfrid^s  thought ;  and  the  rest 
were  almost  as  much  occupied  with  their  own  ideas. 
Captain  Gambler  received  their  semi-ironical  congra- 
tulations and  condolences  incident  to  the  man  who 
is  left  alone  in  the  charge  of  sweet  ladies ;  and  the 
Hon.  Mrs.  Bayruffle  remarked  that  she  supposed 
ten  hours  not  a  long  period  of  time,  though  her 
responsibility  was  onerous.  "  Lady  Gosstre  is  at 
the  island,'^  said  Lady  Charlotte,  to  show  w^here  it 
might  end,  if  she  pleased.  "Within  an  hour  the 
yacht  was  flying  for  the  island  with  a  full  western 
l)reeze ;  and  Mrs.  Chump  and  Wilfrid  were  speeding 
to  Brookfield,  as  the  latter  permitted  her  to  imagine. 
Braintop  realised  the  fruits  of  the  sacrifice  of  his 
return  ticket  by  facing  Mrs.  Chump  in  the  train. 
Merthyr  had  telegraphed  to  Marini  to  meet  Emilia 
at  the  station  in  London,  and  instructed  Braintop 
to  deliver  a  letter  for  her  at  Marini^s  house.  To 
Marini  he  wrote  :  "  Let  Giulia  guard  her  as  no  one 
but  a  woman  can  in  such  a  case.  By  this  time 
Giulia  will  know  her  value.  There  is  dangerous 
stuff  in  her  now,  and  my  anxiety  is  very  great. 
Have  you  seen  what  a  nature  it  is  ?     You  have  not 


Emilia's  flight.  21 

alluded  to  her  beyond  answers  to  instructions,  but 
her  character  cannot  have  escaped  you.  I  am  never 
mistaken  in  my  estimates  of  Italian  and  Cymric 
blood.  Singularly,  too,  she  is  part  AVelsh  on  the 
mother's  side,  to  judge  by  the  name.  Leave  her 
mind  entirely  free  till  it  craves  openly  for  some 
counteraction.  Her  Italy  and  her  music  will  not 
do.  Let  them  be.  ]\Iy  fear  is  that  you  have  seen 
too  clearly  what  a  daughter  of  Italy  I  have  found  for 
3'ou.  But  whatever  you  put  up  now  to  distract  her, 
you  sacrifice,  ^ly  good  Marini  !  bear  that  in  mind. 
It  will  be  a  disgust  in  her  memory,  and  I  wish  her 
to  love  her  country  and  her  art  when  she  recovers. 
So  we  treat  the  disease,  dear  friend.  Let  your  Italy 
have  no  sorrows  for  her  ears  till  the  storm  within  is 
tranquil.     I  am  with  you  speedily." 

Marini's  reply  said  :  "  Among  all  the  things  we 
have  to  thank  our  Merthyr  for,  this  treasure,  if  it  is 
not  the  greatest  he  has  given  to  us,  makes  us  grate- 
ful the  most.  We  met  her  at  the  station.  Ah  ! 
there  was  an  elbow  when  she  gave  her  hand.  She 
thought  to  be  alone,  and  started,  and  hated,  till 
Giulia  smothered  her  face.  And  there  was  dead  fire 
in  the  eyes,  which  is  powder  when  you  spring  it. 
We  go  with  her  to  our  new  lodging,  and  the  track  is 


22  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

lost.  This  is  your  wish  ?  It  is  pitching  new  camps 
to  avoid  the  enemy.  But  so  !  a  man  takes  this 
disease  and  his  common  work  at  once  :  of  a  woman 
— she  is  all  the  disease,  till  it  is  extinct  or  she ! 
What  is  this  disease  but  a  silly,  a  senseless  waste  ? 
Giulia — woman  that  she  is  ! — will  not  call  it  so. 
See  her  eyes  doze  and  and  her  voice  go  a  soft  buzz 
when  she  speaks  it !  As  a  dove  of  the  woods  !  That 
it  almost  makes  it  sweet  to  me  !  Yes,  a  daughter  of 
Italy  !  So  Giulia  has  been : — will  be  ?  I  know  not ! 
So  will  this  your  Emilia  be  in  the  time  that  comes 
to  the  young  people.  She  has  this,  as  you  say, 
malady  very  strong — ma,  ogni  male  ha  la  sua  ricetta; 
I  can  say  it  of  persons.  Of  nations  to  think  my 
heart  is  as  an  infidel — very  heav3\  Ah  !  till  I  turn 
to  you — who  revive  to  the  thought,  as  you  were  an 
army  of  deliverance.  For  you  are  hope.  You  know 
not  Despair.  You  are  Hope.  And  you  love  as 
myself  a  mother  whose  son  you  are  not !  '  Oh  ! '  is 
Giulia's  cry,  'will  our  Italy  reward  him  with  a 
daughter  ?  ^ — the  noblest  that  we  have.  Yes,  for  she 
would  be  Italian  always  through  you.  We  pray  that 
you  may  not  get  old  too  soon,  before  she  grows  for 
you  and  is  found,  only  that  you  may  know  in  her 
our  love.  See  !  I  am  brought  to  talk  this  language. 
The  woman  is  in  me." 


EMILIA  S   FLIGHT.  »3 

MerthjT  said,  as  lie  read  this,  "  I  could  wish  no 
better."  His  feeling  for  Emilia  waxed  towards  a 
self-avowal  as  she  advanced  to  womanhood ;  and  the 
last  stage  of  it  had  struck  among  trembling  strings 
in  the  inmost  chambers  of  his  heart.  That  last 
stage  of  it — her  passionate  claiming  of  Wilfrid 
before  two  women,  one  her  rival — slept  like  a 
covered  furnace  within  him.  "  Can  you  remember 
none  of  her  words  ?  "  he  said  more  than  once  to 
Georgiana,  who  rei;)lied:  "  I  would  try  to  give  j^ou 
an  idea  of  what  she  said,  but  I  might  as  well  try  to 
paint  lightning." 

"  '  My  lover'  ?  "  suggested  Merthyr. 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  that  she  said."" 

*•  It  sounded  oddly  to  your  ears  ?  " 

"  Very,  indeed.'' 

"  What  more  ?  " 

" did  she  say,  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Is  my  poor  sister  ashamed  to  repeat  it  ?  " 

"  I  would  repeat  anything  that  would  give  you 
pleasure  to  hear." 

"  Sometimes  pain,  you  know,  is  sweet." 

Little  by  little,  and  with  a  contest  at  each  step, 
Georgiana  coasted  the  conviction  that  her  undivided 
reign  was  over.  Then  she  judged  Emilia  by  human 
nature''s  hardest  standard  :  the  measure  of  the  qua- 


24  EMILIA   IN    ENGLAND. 

lities  brought  as  usurper  and  successor.  Uncon- 
sciously she  placed  herself  m  the  seat  of  one  who 
had  fulfilled  all  the  great  things  demanded  of  a 
woman  for  Merthyr,  and  it  seemed  to  her  that 
Emilia  exercised  some  fatal  fascination,  girl  though 
she  was,  to  hurl  her  from  that  happy  sovereignty. 

But  Emilia's  worst  crime  before  the  arraigning 
lady  was  that  Wilfrid  had  cast  her  off.  Female 
justice,  therefore,  said  :  "  You  must  be  unworthy  of 
my  brother ;"  and  female  delicacy  thought :  "  You 
have  been  soiled  by  a  previous  history.''^  She  had 
pitied  Wilfrid  :  now  she  held  him  partially  blame- 
less :  and  while  love  was  throbbing  in  many  pulses 
all  round  her,  the  man  she  had  seen  besieged  by 
passionate  love,  touched  her  cold  imagination  with 
a  hue  of  fire,  as  winter  dawn  lies  on  a  frosty  field. 
She  almost  conceived  what  this  other,  not  sisterly, 
love  might  be;  though  not  as  its  victim,  by  any 
means.  She  became,  as  she  had  never  before  been, 
spiritually  tormented  and  restless.  The  thought 
framed  itself  that  Charlotte  and  Wilfrid  were  not^ 
by  any  law  of  selection,  to  Inatch.  What  mattered 
it  ?  Simply  that  it  in  some  way  seemed  to  increase 
the  merits  of  one  of  the  two.  The  task,  moreover, 
of  avoiding  to  tease  her  brother  was  made  easier  to 
her  by  flying  to  this  new  refuge  of  mysterious  reflec- 


EMILIA  S    FLIGHT.  JSO 

tion.  At  times  she  poured  back  the  whole  flood  of 
her  heart  upon  Merthyr,  and  then  in  alarm  at  the 
host  of  little  passions  that  grew  cravingly  alive  in 
her,  she  turned  her  thoughts  to  Wilfrid  again ; 
and  so,  till  they  turned  wittingly  to  him.  That  this 
host  of  little  passions  will  invariably  surround  a 
false  great  one,  she  learnt  by  degrees,  by  having  to 
quell  them  and  rise  out  of  them.  She  knew  that 
now  she  occasionally  forced  her  passion  for  Merthyr ; 
but  what  nothing  could  teach  her  was,  that  she  did 
so  to  eject  another's  image.  On  the  contrary,  her 
confession  would  have  been  :  *'  Voluntarily  I  dwell 
upon  that  other,  that  my  love  for  Merthyr  may  avoid 
excess."  To  such  a  state  of  clearness  much  self- 
questioning  brought  her :  but  her  blood  was  as  yet 
unwarmed ;  and  that  is  a  condition  fostering  self- 
deception  as  much  as  w^hen  it  rages. 

Madame  Marini  wrote  to  ask  whether  Emilia 
might  receive  the  visits  of  a  Sir  Purcell  Barrett, 
whom  they  had  met,  and  whom  Emilia  called  her 
friend;  adding:  "The  other  gentleman  has  called 
at  our  old  lodgings  three  times.  The  last  time 
our  landlady  says,  he  wept.  Is  it  an  Englishman, 
really?" 

Merthyr  laughed  at  this,  remarking  :  "  Charlotte 
is  not  so  vigilant,  after  all." 


26  EMILIA   IX   ENGLAND. 

"  He  wept,'^  Georgiana  thought,  and  remembered 
the  cold  self-command  that  his  face  had  shown  when 
Emilia  claimed  him,  and  his  sole  repl}^  was,  "  I  am 
engaged  to  this  lady,"  designating  Lady  Charlotte. 
Now,  too,  some  of  Emilia's  phrases  took  life  in  her 
memory.  She  studied  them,  thinking  over  them',  as 
if  a  voice  of  nature  had  spoken.  Less  and  less  it 
seemed  to  her  that  a  woman  need  feel  shame  to  utter 
them.  She  interpreted  this  as  her  growth  of  charity 
towards  a  girl  so  violently  stricken  with  love.  "  In 
such  a  case,  the  more  she  says  the  more  is  she  to  be 
excused  ;  for  nothing  but  a  frenzy  of  passion  could 
move  her  to  speak  so,"  thought  Georgiana.  Ac- 
cepting the  words,  and  sanctioning  the  passion,  the 
person  of  him  who  had  inspired  it  stood  magnified 
in  its  light.  She  believed  that  if  he  had  i)layed 
with  the  girl,  he  repented,  and  the  idea  of  a  man 
shedding  tears  burnt  to  her  heart. 

Merthyr  and  Georgiana  remained  in  Devonshire 
till  a  letter  from  Madame  Marini  one  morning  told 
them  that  Emilia  had  disappeared. 

"  You  delayed  too  long  to  go  to  her,  Merthyr," 
said  his  sister,  astonishing  him.  "I  understand 
why ;  but  you  may  trust  to  time  and  scorn  chance 
too  much.  Let  us  go  now  and  find  her,  if  it  is  not 
too  late." 


Emilia's  flight.  27 

Marini  met  tliem  at  the  station  in  London, 
and  they  heard  that  Wilfrid  had  discovered  Marini's 
new  abode,  and  had  called  there  that  morning.  "  I 
had  my  eye  on  him.  It  was  not  a  piece  of  love- 
play,"  said  Marini :  "  and  to-day  she  should  have 
seen  my  chief,  which  would  have  cured  her  of  sis 
pestilence  of  a  love,  to  give  her  sublime  soughts. 
Do  you  love  her,  Miss  Ford  ?  Aha  !  it  will  be 
Christian  names  in  Italy  again." 

"  I  like  her  very  much,^^  said  Georgiana ;  "  but  I 
confess  it  mystifies  me  to  see  you  all  so  excited 
about  her.  It  must  be  some  attraction  possessed 
by  her — w^hat,  I  cannot  say.  I  like  her,  cer- 
tainly." 

"  Figlia  mia  !  she  is  an  element — she  is  fire  !  " 
said  Marini.  "My  sought,  when  our  Mertyr 
brought  her,  was,  it  is  Italy  he  sees  in  her  face — 
her  voice — name — anysing  !  And  a  day  passed, 
and  I  could  not  lose  her  for  my  own  sake,  and  felt 
a  somesing,  too  !     She  is  half  man." 

*'  A  singular  reason  for  an  attraction."  Georgiana 
smiled. 

"  She  is  not,"  Marini  put  out  his  fingers  like 
claws  to  explain,  while  his  eyelashes  met  over  his 
eyes — "  she  is  not  what  man  has  made  of  your  sex; 
and  she  is  brave  of  heart.^' 


as  EMILIA  IN   ENGLAND. 

"  Can  you  possibly  tell  what  sucli  a  child  can 
be  ?  "  questioned  Georgiana,  almost  irritably. 

Marini  did  not  leyAj  to  her. 

"  A  face  to  find  a  home  in  ! — eh,  Mertyr  ?  " 

"  Let's  discover  ^Yhere  that  face  has  found  a 
home,"  said  Merthyr.  "  She  is  a  very  plain  and  un- 
pretending person,  if  people  will  not  insist  upon  her 
being  more.  This  morbid  admiration  of  heroines 
puts  a  trifle  too  much  weight  upon  their  shoulders, 
does  it  not  ?  " 

Georgiana  knew  that  to  call  Emilia  'child'  was 
to  wound  the  most  sensitive  nerve  in  Merthyr' s 
system,  if  he  loved  her,  and  she  had  determined  to 
try  harshly  whether  he  did.  Nevertheless,  though 
the  expression  succeeded,  and  was  designedly  cruel, 
she  could  not  forgive  the  insincerity  of  his  last 
speech ;  craving  in  truth  for  confidence  as  her 
smallest  claim  on  him  now.  So,  at  all  the  consulta- 
tions, she  acquiesced  in  any  scheme  that  was  pro- 
posed ;  the  advertisings  and  the  use  of  detectives  ; 
the  communication  with  Emilia's  mother  and  father  ; 
and  the  callmgs  at  suburban  concert-rooms.  Sir 
Purcell  Barrett  frequently  called  to  assist  in  the 
discovery.  At  first  he  led  them  to  suspect  Mr. 
Pericles ;  but  a  trusty  Italian  playing  spy  upon 
that  gentleman  soon  cleared  him,  and  they  were 


Emilia's  flight.  29 

more  in  the  dark  than  ever.  It  was  only  when 
at  last  Georgiana  lieard  Merthyr,  the  picture  of 
polished  self-possession,  giving  way  to  a  burst  of 
disappointment  in  the  room  before  them  all :  "  Are 
we  sure  that  she  lives  ?  "  he  cried  : — then  Geor- 
giana, looking  at  the  firelight  over  her  joined 
fingers,  said : 

"But,  have  you  forgotten  the  serviceable  brigade 
you  have  in  your  organ-boys,  Marini  ?  If  Emilia 
sees  one,  be  sure  she  will  speak  to  him." 

"  Have  I  not  said  she  is  a  general  ?  "  Marini 
pointed  Georgiana  out  with  a  gleam  of  his  dark  eyes, 
and  Merthyr  squeezed  his  sister^s  hand,  thanking 
her;  by  which  he  gave  her  one  whole  night  of 
remorse,  because  she  had  not  spoken  earlier. 


CHAPTER  II. 

SHE    CLIXGS    TO    HER   VOICE. 

"  My  voice  !  I  have  my  voice  ! " 

Emilia  had  cried  it  out  to  herself  almost  aloud, 
on  the  journey  from  Devon  to  London.  The  land- 
scape slipping  under  her  eyes,  with  flashing  grey 
pools  and  light  silver  freshets,  little  glades,  little 
copses,  farms,  and  meadows  rounding  away  to  spu-es 
of  village  churches  under  blue  hills,  would  not  let 
her  sink,  heavy  as  was  the  spirit  within  her,  and 
dead  to  everything  as  she  desired  to  be,  Here,  a 
great,  strange,  old  oak  spread  out  its  arms  and 
seemed  to  hold  the  hurrying  train  a  minute. 
"When  gone  by,  Emilia  thought  of  it  as  a  friend, 
and  that  there,  there,  was  the  shelter  and  thick 
darkness  she  had  hoped  she  might  be  flying  to.  Or 
the  reach  of  a  stream  was  seen,  and  in  the  mirror  of 
it  one  fair  group  of  clouds,  showing  distance  beyond 
distance  in  colour.  Emilia  shut  her  sight,  and 
tried  painfully  to  believe  that  there  were  no  dis- 
tances for  her.     This  was  an  easy  task  when  the 


SHE    CLINGS    TO    HER   VOICE.  31 

train  stopped.  It  was  surprising  to  her  then  why 
the  people  moved.  The  whistle  of  the  engine,  and 
rush  of  the  scenery,  set  her  imagination  anew  upon 
the  hoiTor  of  heing  motionless. 

"  My  voice  !  I  have  my  voice  !  "  The  exclamation 
recurred  at  intervals,  as  a  quick  fear,  that  bubbled 
up  from  blind  sensation,  of  her  being  utterly  aban- 
doned, and  a  stray  thing  carrying  no  light,  startled 
her.  Darkness  she  still  had  her  desire  for;  but 
not  to  be  dark  in  the  darkness.  She  looked  back 
on  the  recent  night  as  a  lake  of  fire,  through  which 
she  had  plunged  ;  and  of  all  the  faculties  about  her, 
memor}'  had  suffered  most,  so  that  it  could  recall 
no  images  of  what  had  happened,  but  lay  against 
its  black  comer  a  shuddering  bundle  of  nerves. 
The  varying  fields  and  woods  and  waters  offering 
themselves  to  her  in  the  swiftness,  were  as  wine 
dashed  to  her  lips,  which  could  not  be  dead  to  it. 
The  wish  to  be  of  some  worth  began  a  painful  quick- 
ening movement.  At  first  she  could  have  sobbed 
with  the  keen  anguish  that  instantaneously  beset 
her.  For — "  If  I  am  of  worth,  who  looks  on  me  ?  " 
was  her  outcry,  and  the  darkness  she  had  previously 
coveted  fell  with  the  strength  of  a  mace  on  her 
forehead;  but  the  creature's  heart  struggled  fur- 
ther, and  by-and-by,  in  despite  of  her,  the  i)ulses 


d8  EMILIA   IX   ENGLAND. 

sprang  a  clear  outlook  on  hope.  It  struck 
through  her  like  the  first  throb  of  a  sword-cut. 
She  tried  to  blind  herself  to  it ;  the  face  of  hope 
was  hateful. 

This  conflict  of  the  baffled  sx)irit  of  youth  with 
its  forceful  flood  of  being  continued  until  it  seemed 
that  Emilia  was  lifted  through  the  fier}"  circles  into 
daylight ;  her  last  cry  being  as  her  first :  "  I  have 
my  voice  !  " 

Of  that  which  her  voice  was  to  achieve  for  her, 
she  never  thought.  She  had  no  thought  of  value, 
but  only  an  eagerness  to  feel  herself  possessor  of 
something.  "Wilfrid  had  appeared  to  her  to  have 
taken  all  from  her,  until  the  recollection  of  her 
voice  made  her  breathe  suddenly  quick  and  deep,  as 
one  recovering  the  taste  of  life. 

Despair,  I  have  said  before,  is  a  wilful  business, 
common  to  corrupt  blood,  and  to  weak  woeful 
minds  :  native  to  the  sentimentalist  of  the  better 
order.  The  only  touch  of  it  that  came  to  Emilia 
was  when  she  attempted  to  penetrate  to  Wilfrid's 
reason  for  calling  her  down  to  Devon  that  he  might 
renounce  and  abandon  her.  She  wanted  a  reason 
to  make  him  in  harmony  with  his  acts,  and  she 
could  get  none.  This  made  the  world  look  black  to 
her.     But,  "  I  have  my  voice  !  "  she  said,  exhausted 


SHE   CLINGS   TO   HER  VOICE.  33 

by  the  passion  of  the  night,  tearless,  and  only 
sensible  to  pain  when  the  keen  swift  wind,  and 
the  flying  squares  of  field  and  meadow  prompted 
her  nature  mysteriously  to  press  for  healthy 
action. 

A  man  opposite  to  her  ventured  a  remark  :  "  We're 
going  at  a  pretty  good  pace  now,  Miss." 

She  turned  her  eyes  to  him,  and  the  sense  of 
speed  was  reduced  in  her  at  once,  she  could  not 
com2')rehend  how.  Eemembering  presently  that 
she  had  not  answered  him,  she  said  :  "  It  is  because 
you  are  going  home,  perhaps,  that  you  think  it 
fast." 

"  No,  Miss,"  he  repHed,  "  I'm  going  to  market. 
They  can't  put  on  steam  too  stiflf  for  me  when  I'm 
bound  on  business." 

Emilia  found  it  impossible  to  fathom  the  sensa- 
tions of  the  man,  and  their  common  desire  for  speed 
bewildered  her  more.  She  was  relieved  when  the 
train  was  lightened  of  him.  Soon  the  skirts  of 
red  vapour  were  visible,  and  when  the  guard  took 
poor  Braintop's  return -ticket  from  her  petulant 
hand,  all  of  the  jom-ney  that  she  bore  in  mind  was 
the  sight  of  a  butcher-boy  in  blue,  with  a  red 
cap,  mounted  on  a  white  horse,  wlio  rode  gallantly 
along  a  broad  high  road,   and  for  whom  she  had 

VOL.    HI.  D 


34  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

struck  out  some  tune  to  suit  tlie  measure  of  his 
gallop. 

She  accepted  her  capture  by  the  Marinis  more 
calmly  than  IMerthyr  had  been  led  to  suppose.  The 
butcher-boy's  gallop  kept  her  senses  in  motion  for 
many  hours,  and  that  reckless  equestrian  embodied 
the  idea  of  the  vivifpng  pace  from  which  she  had 
dropped.  He  went  slower  and  slower.  By  degrees 
the  tune  grew  dull,  and  jarred;  and  then  Emilia 
looked  out  on  the  cold  grey  skies  of  our  autumn, 
the  rain  and  the  fogs,  and  roaring  London  filled  her 
ears.  So  had  ended  a  dream,  she  thought.  She 
would  stand  at  the  window  listening  to  street- 
organs,  whose  hideous  discord  and  clippings  and 
drawls  did  not  madden  her,  and  whose  suggestion 
of  a  lovely  tune  rolled  out  no  golden  land  to  her. 
That  treasure  of  her  voice,  to  which  no  one  in  the 
house  made  allusion,  became  indeed  a  buried 
treasure. 

In  the  south-western  suburb  where  the  Marinis 
lived,  plots  of  foliage  were  to  be  seen,  and  there 
were  lanes  not  so  black  but  that  they  showed  the 
hues  of  the  season.  These  led  to  the  parks  and  to 
noble  gardens.  Emilia  daily  went  out  to  keep  the 
dying  colours  of  the  year  in  view,  and  walked  to 
get  among  the  trees,  where,  with  Madame  attendant 


SHE   CLINGS   TO    HER   VOICE.  35 

on  her,  she  sat  coimtmg  the  leaves  as  each  one 
curved,  and  slid,  and  spun  to  earth,  or  on  a  gust  of 
air  hosts  went  aloft ;  but  it  always  ended  in  their 
coming  down ;  Emilia  verified  that  fact  repeatedly. 
However  high  they  flew,  the  ground  awaited  them. 
Madame  entertained  her  with  talk  of  Italy,  and 
Tuscan  wine,  and  Lombard  bread,  and  Turin  choco- 
late. Marini  never  alluded  to  his  sufferings  for 
the  loss  of  these  cruelly  interdicted  dainties,  never ! 
But  Madame  knew  how  his  exile  affected  him.  And 
in  England  the  sums  one  paid  for  everjiLhing ! 
"  One  fancies  one  pays  for  breath,"  said  Madame, 
shivering. 

One  day  the  ex -organist  of  HiUford  Chm'ch  passed 
before  them.  Emilia  let  him  go.  The  day  follow- 
ing he  passed  again,  but  turned  at  the .  end  of  the 
alley  and  simulated  astonishment  at  the  appearance 
of  Emilia,  as  he  neared  her.  They  shook  hands 
and  talked,  while  Madame  zealously  eyed  any  chance 
person  promenading  the  neighbourhood.  She  wrote 
for  instructions  concerning  this  gentleman  calling 
himself  Sir  Purcell  Barrett,  and  receiving  them, 
she  permitted  Emilia  to  incite  him  to  their  house. 
"  He  is  an  Englishman  under  a  rope,  ready  for 
heaven,"  Madame  described  him  to  her  husband, 
who,  though  more  at  heart  with  Englishmen,  could 

D  2 


36  EMILIA  IN   ENGLAND. 

not  but  admit  that  this  one  wore  a  look  that  appeared 
as  a  prognostication  of  sadness. 

Sir  Purcell  informed  Emilia  of  his  accession  of 
title  ;  and  in  reply  to  her  "  Are  you  not  glad  ? " 
smiled  and  said  that  a  mockery  could  scarcely  make 
him  glad;  indicating  nevertheless  how  feeble  the 
note  of  poverty  was  in  his  grand  scale  of  sorrow. 
He  came  to  the  house  and  met  them  in  the  gardens 
frequently.  With  some  perversity  he  would  analyse 
to  herseK  Emilia's  spirit  of  hope,  partly  perhaps  for 
the  sake  of  probing  to  what  sort  of  thing  it  might 
be  in  its  natm-e  and  defences ;  and,  as  against  an 
accomplished  disputant  she  made  but  a  poor  battle, 
he  injm-ed  what  was  precious  to  her  without  himself 
gaining  any  good  whatever. 

"  Whj^  what  do  you  look  forward  to  ?  "  she  said 
wondering,  at  the  end  of  one  of  their  arguments,  as 
he  courteously  termed  this  i^lay  of  logical  foils  with 
a  baby. 

"Death,"  answered  the  grave  gentleman,  strid- 
ing on. 

Emilia  pitied  him,  thinking:  "I  might  feel  as 
he  does,  if  I  had  not  my  voice."  Seeing  that 
calamity  very  remote,  she  added :  "  I  should  !  " 

She  knew  of  his  position  towards  Cornelia :  that 
is,  she  knew  as  much  as  he  did :  for  the  want  of  a 


SHE    CLINGS   TO    HER   VOICE.  37 

woman's  heart  over  "which  to  simmer  his  troubles 
was  urrrent  within  him,  and  Emilia's,  though  it 
lacked  experience,  was  a  woman's  regarding  love. 
And  moreover,  she  did  not  weep,  but  practically- 
suggested  his  favourable  chances,  which  it  was  a 
sad  satisfaction  to  him  to  prove  baseless,  and  to 
knock  utterly  over.  The  grief  in  which  the  soul  of 
a  human  creature  is  persistently  seeking  (since  it 
cannot  be  thrown  off)  to  clothe  itself  comfortably, 
finds  in  tears  an  irritating  expression  of  sympathy. 
Hints  of  a  brighter  future  are  its  nourishment. 
Such  embryos  are  not  tenacious  of  existence,  and 
when  destroyed  they  are  succulent  food  for  a  space 
to  the  moody  grief  I  am  describing. 

The  melancholy  gentleman  did  Emilia  this  good, 
that,  never  appearing  to  imagine  others  to  know 
misery  save  himself,  he  gave  her  full  occupation 
apart  from  the  workings  of  her  own  mind.  As  to  her 
case,  he  might  have  offered  the  excuse  that  she  really 
had  nothing  of  the  aspect  of  a  love-sick  young  lady, 
and  was  not  a  bit  sea-green  to  view,  or  lamentable 
in  tone.  He  was  sufficiently  humane  to  have  felt 
for  anyone  suffering,  and  the  proof  of  it  is,  that  the 
only  creature  he  saw  under  that  influence  he  pitied 
so  deplorably,  that  melancholy  had  become  a  habit 
with  him.     He  fretted  her  because  he   would   do 


38  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

no  tiling,  and  this  spectacle  of  a  lover  beloved,  but 
consenting  to  be  mystified,  consentingly  paralyzed : — 
of  a  lover  beloved  ! — 

"  Does  she  love  you  ?  "  said  Emilia,  beseech- 
ingly- 

"  If  the  truth  is  in  her,  she  does,"  he  returned. 

"  She  has  told  you  she  loves  you  ? — that  she 
loves  no  one  else  ?  " 

"  Of  this  I  am  certain." 

"  Then,  why  are  you  downcast  ?  my  good- 
ness !  I  would  take  her  b}^  the  hand — '  Woman ; 
do  3'ou  know  yourself?  j^ou  belong  to  me!' — 
I  would  say  that;  and  never  let  go  her  hand. 
That  would  decide  everytliing.  She  must  come 
to  you  then,  or  you  know  what  it  is  that  means 
to  separate  you.  My  goodness !  I  see  it  so 
plain  ! " 

But  he  declined  to  look  thus  low,  and  stood 
pitifully  smiling : — This  spectacle,  together  with 
some  subtle  spur  from  the  talk  of  love,  roused 
Emilia  from  her  lethargy.  The  warmth  of  a  new 
desire  struck  around  her  heart.  The  old  belief 
in  her  power  over  Wilfrid  joined  to  a  distinct 
admission  that  she  had  for  the  moment  lost  him ; 
and  she  said,  "  Yes  :  now,  as  I  am  noic,  he  can 
abandon  me :"  but  how  if  he  should  see  her  and 


SHE   CLINGS   TO    HER  VOICE.  39 

hear  her  iu  that  hushed  hour  when  she  was  to  stand 
as  a  star  before  men  ?  Emiha  flushed  and  trem- 
bled. She  lived  vividly  through  her  far-projected 
sensations,  until  truly  pity  for  Wilfrid  was  active  in 
her  bosom,  she  feeUng  how  he  woidd  yearn  for  her. 
The  vengeance  seemed  to  her  so  keen  that  pity 
could  not  fail  to  come.  Thus,  to  her  contemplation, 
their  positions  became  reversed :  it  was  Wilfrid 
now  who*  stood  in  the  darkness,  unselected.  Her 
fiery  falicy,  unchained  from  the  despotic  heart, 
illumined  her  under  the  golden  future. 

"  Come  to  us  this  evenmg,  I  will  sing  to  you," 
she  said,  and  the  '  Englishman  under  a  rope'  bowed 
assentingly. 

"  Sad  songs,  if  you  like,"  she  added. 

*'  I  have  alwaj'S  thought  sadness  more  musical 
than  mirth,"  said  he.  "  Surely  there  is  more  grace  in 
sadness  ! " 

Poetry,  sculpture,  and  songs,  and  all  the  arts, 
were  brought  forward  in  mournful  array  to  demon- 
strate the  truth  of  his  theor3\ 

When  Emilia  understood  him,  she  cited  dogs 
and  cats,  and  birds,  and  aU  things  of  natm-e  that 
rejoiced  and  revelled,  in  support  of  the  opposite 
view. 

"  Nay,  if  animals  are  to  be  your  illustration ! " 


40  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

he  protested.  He  had  been  perhaps  half  under  the 
delusion  that  he  spoke  with  Cornelia,  aijd  with  a 
sense  of  infinite  misery,  he  compressed  the  apt 
distinction  that  he  had  in  his  mind,  which  was  to 
show  where  humanity  and  simple  nature  drew  a  line, 
and  wherein  humanity  claimed  the  loftier  seat. 

"But  such  talk  must  he  uttered  to  a  soul,''  he 
phrased  internally,  and  Emilia  was  denied  what 
belonged  to  Cornelia. 

Hitherto  Emilia  had  refused  to  sing,  and  Madame 
Marini,  faithful  to  her  instructions,  had  never 
allowed  her  to  be  pressed  to  sing.  Emilia  would 
brood  over  notes,  thinking  :  "I  can  take  that;  and 
that ;  and  dwell  on  such  and  such  a  note  for  any 
length  of  time  ;"  but  she  would  not  call  up  her 
voice ;  she  would  not  look  at  her  treasure.  It 
seemed  more  to  her,  untouched ;  and  went  on 
doubling  its  worth,  until  doubtless  her  idea  of 
capacit}^  greatly  relieved  her  of  the  burden  on  her 
breast,  and  the  reflection  that  she  held  a  charm  for 
all,  and  held  it  from  all,  flattered  one  who  had  been 
cruelly  robbed. 

On  their  way  homeward,  among  the  chrysan- 
themums in  the  long  garden-walk,  they  met  Tracy 
Kunningbrook,  between  whose  shouts  of  delight  and 
Emilia's  reserve  there  was  so   marked   a   contrast 


SHE    CLINGS   TO    HER   VOICE.  41 

tliat  one  would  have  deemed  Trac}'  an  oifender  in 
her  sight.  She  liad  said  to  him  entreating!}^,  "  Do 
not  come,"  when  he  vokmteered  to  call  on  the 
Marinis  in  the  evening ;  and  she  got  away  from 
him  as  quickly  as  she  could,  promising  to  he  pleased 
if  he  called  the  day  following.  Tracy  flew  leaping 
to  one  of  the  great  houses  where  he  was  a  tame 
cat.  T\lien  Sir  Purcell  as  they  passed  on  spoke 
a  contemptuous  word  of  his  soft  habits  and  idleness, 
Emilia  said  :  "  He  is  one  of  my  true  friends." 

"And  v/hy  is  he  interdicted  the  visit  this  eve- 
ning? " 

"  Because,"  she  answered,  and  grew  pale,  "  he — he 
does  not  care  for  music.     I  wish  I  had  not  met  him." 

She  recollected  how  Tracj^'s  flaming  head  had 
sprung  up  before  her — he  who  had  always  pro- 
phesied that  she  would  be  famous  for  arts  unknown 
to  her,  and  not  for  song — ^just  when  she  was  having 
a  vision  of  triumph  and  caressing  the  idea  of  her 
imprisoned  voice  bursting  its  captivity,  and  soaring 
into  its  old  heavens. 

"  He  does  not  care  for  music  ! "  interjected  Sir 
Purcell,  with  something  like  a  frown.  "I  have 
nothing  in  common  with  him.  But  that  I  might 
have  known.  I  can  have  nothing  in  common  with 
a  man  who  is  not  to  be  impressed  by  music." 


42  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

"  I  love  him  quite  as  well,"  said  Emilia.  "  He  is 
a  quick  friend.     I  am  always  certain  of  him." 

"  And  I  imagine  also  that  you  are  quits  with  your 
*  quick  friend,'  "  added  Sir  Pmxell.  "  You  do  not 
care  for  verse,  or  he  for  voices  ! " 

"Poetry?"  said  Emilia;  "no,  not  much.  It 
seems  like  talking  on  tiptoe ;  like  animals  in  cages, 
always  going  to  one  end  and  back  again     .     .     .     ." 

"And  making  the  same  noise  when  they 
get  at  the  end  —  hke  the  bears!"  Sir  Purcell 
slightly  laughed.  "  You  don't  approve  of  the 
rhymes." 

"  Yes,  I  like  the  rhymes ;  but  when  you  use 
words — I  mean,  if  you  are  in  earnest — how  can  you 
count  and  have  stops,  and — no,  I  do  not  care 
anything  for  j)oetry." 

Sir  Purcell's  opinion  of  Emiha,  though  he  liked 
her,  was,  that  if  a  genius,  she  was  an  incomplete 
one ;  and  his  positive  judgment  (which  I  set  down 
in  phrase  that  would  have  startled  him)  ranked  both 
her  and  Tracy  as  a  pair  of  partial  humbugs,  enter- 
taining enough. 

Haply  at  that  moment  the  girl  was  intensely 
susceptible,  for  she  chilled  by  his  side ;  and  when 
he  left  her  she  begged  Madame  to  walk  fast.  "  I 
wonder  whether  I  have  a  cold !  "  she  said. 


SHE   CLINGS   TO   HER   VOICE.  43 

Madame  explained  all  the  signs  of  it  with  tragic 
minuteness,  deciding  that  Emilia  was  free  at  pre- 
sent, and  by  miracle,  from  this  English  scourge ; 
but  Emilia  kept  her  hands  at  her  mouth.  Over  the 
hornbeam  hedge  of  the  lane  that  ran  through  the 
market-gardens,  she  could  see  a  murkj^  sunset 
spreading  its  deep-coloured  lines  that  seemed  to  her 
realh^  like  a  great  sorrowing  over  earth.  It  had 
never  seemed  so  till  now;  and,  entering  the  house, 
the  roar  of  vehicles  in  a  neighbouring  road  sounded 
like  sometliing  implacable  in  the  order  of  things 
among  us,  and  clung  about  her  ears  pitilessly.  Bun- 
ning  up-stairs,  she  tried  a  scale  of  notes  that  broke 
on  a  cough.  "  Did  I  cough  purposely  ?  ^'  she  asked 
herself;  but  she  had  not  the  courage  to  try  the 
notes  again.  While  dressing  she  hummed  a  pas- 
sage, and  sought  stealthily  to  pass  the  barrier  of 
her  own  watchfulness  by  dwelling  on  a  deep  note, 
from  which  she  was  to  rise  bursting  with  full 
bravura  energy,  and  so  forth  on  a  tide  of  song. 
But  her  breath  failed.  She  stared  into  the  glass 
and  forced  the  note.  A  panic  caught  at  her  heart 
when  she  heard  the  sound  that  issued.  "  Am  I  ill  ? 
I  must  be  hungry ! "  she  exclaimed.  "  It  is  a 
cough !  But  I  don't  cough !  What  is  the  matter 
with  me  ?  " 


44  EMILIA   IX   EXGLAKD. 

Under  these  auspices  she  forced  her  voice  again, 
and  subsequently  loosened  her  dress,  complaining  of 
the  dressmaker's  affection  for  tightness.  "Now," 
she  said,  having  fallen  upon  an  attempt  at  simple 
"  do,  re,  mi,  fa,"  and  laughed  at  herself.  AVas  it 
the  laugh  that,  stopping  her  at  "si,"  made  that  "si" 
so  husky,  asthmatic,  like  the  vheezing  of  a  crooked 
old  witch  ?  "I  am  unlucky,  to-night,"  said  Emilia. 
Or,  rather,  so  said  her  surface-self.  The  sub- 
merged self — self  in  the  depths — rarely  speaks 
to  the  occasions,  but  lies  under  calamity  quietly 
apprehending  all ;  willing  that  the  talker  overhead 
should  deceive  others,  and  herself  likewise,  if  pos- 
sible. Emilia  found  her  hands  acting  daintily  and 
critically  in  the  attirement  of  her  person ;  and  then 
sm-prised  herself  murmuring  :  "  I  forgot  that  Tracy 
won't  be  here  to-night."  B}^  which  she  betraj^ed 
that  she  had  divined  those  arts  she  was  to  shine  in, 
according  to  Tracy ;  and  betrayed  that  she  had  a 
terrible  fear  of  a  loss  of  all  else.  It  pained  her 
now  that  Tracy  should  not  be  coming.  "  Can  I 
send  for  him  ?  "  she  thought,  as  she  looked  win- 
ningly  into  the  glass,  trying  to  feel  what  soi-t  of  a 
feeling  it  was  to  be  in  love  with  a  face  like  that  one 
fronting  her,  so  familiar  in  its  aspects,  so  strange 
when   scrutinised   studiously !     She    drew  a  chair, 


SHE   CLINGS   TO    HER   VOICIT.  45 

and  laying  her  elbow  on  the  toilet-table,  gazed  hard, 
until  the  thought :  "  What  face  did  Wilfrid  see 
last  ? "  (meaning,  '  when  he  saw  me  last ')  drove 
her  away. 

Not  only  did  she  know  herself  now  a  face  of 
many  faces ;  but  the  life  within  her  likewise  as  a  soul 
of  many  souls.  The  one  Emiha,  so  unquestioning,  so 
sure,  lay  dead ;  and  a  dozen  new  spiiits,  with  but  a 
dim  likeness  to  her,  were  fighting  for  possession  of 
her  frame,  now  occupying  it  alone,  now  in  couples ; 
and  each  casting  grim  reflections  on  the  other. 
Which  is  only  a  way  of  telling  you  that  the  great 
result  of  mortal  suffering — consciousness — had  fully 
set  in ;  to  ripen  ;  perhaps  to  debase  ;  at  any  rate  to 
I)rove  her. 

To  be  of  worth  was  still  her  fixed  idea — all  that 
was  clear  in  the  thickening  mist.  "  I  cannot  be 
ugly,"  she  said,  and  reproved  herself  for  simulating 
a  childish  tone.  "  Why  do  I  talk  in  that  way  ?  I 
know  I  am  not  ugly.  But  if  a  fire  scorched  my 
face  ?  There  is  nothing  that  seems  safe  !  "  The 
love  of  friends  was  suggested  to  her  as  something 
to  rely  on  ;  and  the  loving  them.  "  But  if  I  have 
nothing  to  give !  "  said  EmiHa,  and  opened  both 
her  empty  hands.  She  had  diverted  her  mind  from 
the  pressui'e  upon  it,  by  this  colloquy  with  a  look- 


46  ■      EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

ing-glass,   and    gave    herself    a   great    ra2-)ture   by 
running  up  notes  to  this  theme  : — 

*'  No,  no,  no,  no,  no  ! — nothing  !  nothing  !  " 
Clear,  full,  sonant  notes ;  the  notes  of  her  true 
voice.  She  did  not  attempt  them  a  second  time  ; 
nor,  when  Sir  Purcell  requested  her  to  sing  in  the 
course  of  the  evening,  did  she  compl3\  "  The  Si- 
gnora  thinks  I  have  a  cold,"  she  said.  Madame 
Marini  protested  that  she  hoped  not,  she  even 
thought  not,  though  none  could  avoid  it  at  this 
season  in  this  climate,  and  she  turned  to  Sir 
Pm-cell  to  petition  for  any  receipts  he  might 
have  in  his  possession,  specifics  for  warding  off 
the  frightful  affliction  of  households  in  England. 

"  I  have  now  twenty,"  said  Madame,  and  throw- 
ing up  her  eyes ;  "  I  have  tried  all !  oh !  so  many 
lozenge  ! " 

Maiini  and  Emilia  laughed.  While  Sir  Purcell 
was  maintaining  the  fact  of  his  total  ignorance  of  the 
subject  against  ^ladame's  increduhty,  Emilia  left 
the  room.  When  she  came  back,  Madame  was 
pressing  her  ^dsitor  to  be  explicit  with  regard  to 
a  certain  process  of  cure  conducted  by  an  applica- 
tion of  cold  water.  The  Neapolitan  gave  several 
shudders  as  she  marked  him  attentively.  "  Water 
cold ! "    she    mmmured   with   the  deepest  pathos. 


SHE    CLIXGS    TO    HER   VOICE.  47 

and  dropped  her  face  in  her  hands  with  naiTowed 
shoulders.  Emilia  held  a  letter  over  to  Sir  Purcell. 
He  took  it,  first  assuring  himself  that  Marini  was 
in  complicity  with  them.  To  Marini  Emilia  ad- 
dressed a  Momus  forefinger,  and  3Iarini  shrugged, 
smiling.  "  Water  cold  !  "  ejaculated  Madame, 
showing  her  countenance  again.  "  In  winter  ! 
Luigi,  they  are  mad  !  "  Manni  2:)oked  the  fire 
briskly,  for  his  sensations  entirely  sided  with  his 
wife. 

The    letter    Sir    Purcell    held    contained   these 
words  : 

"  Be  kind,  and  meet  me  to-morrow  at  ten 
in  the  morning,  at  that  place  where  you  fii'st  saw  me 
sitting.  I  want  you  to  take  me  to  one  who  will 
help  me.  I  cannot  lose  time  any  more.  I  must 
work.  I  have  been  dead  for  I  cannot  say  how  long. 
I  know  you  will  come. 

"  I  am,  for  ever, 

"  Your  thankful  friend, 

"  E:.IILIA." 


CHAPTEK  III. 

HEPw   VOICE    FAILS. 

The  pride  of  punctuality  brought  Sir  Purcell  to 
that  appointed  seat  in  the  gardens  about  a  minute 
in  advance  of  Emilia.  She  came  hurrying  up  to 
him  -vsith  three  fingers  over  her  lips.  The  morning 
■was  cold ;  frost  edged  the  flat  brown  chestnut  and 
beech  leaves  lying  about  on  rimy  grass ;  so  at  first 
he  made  no  remark  on  her  evident  unwillingness  to 
open  her  mouth,  but  a  feverish  look  of  her  eyes 
touched  him  with  some  kindly  alarm  for  her. 

"You  should  not  have  come  out,  if  you  think 
you  are  in  any  danger,"  he  said. 

"  Not  if  we  walk  fast,"  she  replied,  in  a  visibly 
controlled  excitement.  ''  It  will  be  over  in  an  hour. 
This  way." 

She  led  the  marvelling  gentleman  towards  the 
row,  and  across  it  under  the  big  black  elms,  begging 
him  to  walk  faster.  To  accommodate  her,  he  sug- 
gested that,  if  they  had  any  distance  to  go,  they 
might  ride,  and  after  a  short  calculating  hesitation, 


HER   VOICE   FAILS.  49 

she  consented,  letting  him  know  that  she  wouhl  tell 
him  on  what  expedition  she  was  bound  whilst  they 
were  riding.  The  accompaniment  of  the  wheels, 
however,  necessitated  a  higher  pitch  of  her  voice, 
which  apparently  caused  her  to  suffer  from  a  con- 
traction of  the  throat,  for  she  remained  silent,  with 
a  discouraged  aspect,  her  full  brown  eyes  shoT^ing 
as  in  a  sombre  meditation  beneath  the  thick  brows. 
The  direction  had  been  given  to  the  City.  On  they 
went  with  the  torrent,  and  were  presently  engulfed 
in  fog.  The  roar  grew  muffled,  phantoms  poured 
along  the  pavement,  yellow  beamless  lights  were  in 
the  shop-windov\-s,  all  the  vehicles  went  at  a  slow 
march. 

"  It  looks  as  if  Business  were  attending  its  own 
obsequies,"  said  Sir  Purcell,  whose  spirits  were 
enlivened  by  an  atmosphere  that  confirmed  his 
impression  of  things. 

Emilia  cried  twice  :  "  Oh  !  what  cruel  weather  !  " 
Her  eyelids  blinked,  either  with  anger  or  in  misery. 

They  were  set  down  a  little  beyond  the  Bank, 
and  when  they  turned  from  the  cabman,  Sir  Purcell 
was  warm  in  his  offer  of  his  arm  to  her,  for  he  had 
seen  her  wistfully  touching  what  money  she  had  in 
her  pocket,  and  approved  her  natural  good  breeding 
in  allowing  it  to  pass  unmentioned. 

VOL.    III.  X 


60  EMILIA   IN   EXGLAXD. 

"  Now,"  lie  said,  "  I  must  know  what  you  want 
to  do." 

"  A  quiet  i)lace !  there  is  no  quiet  place  in  this 
city,"  said  Emilia,  fretfully. 

A  gentleman  passing  took  off  his  hat,  saying, 
with  City  politeness,  "  Pardon  me :  you  are  close 
to  a  quiet  place.  Through  that  door,  and  the  hall, 
you  will  find  a  garden,  where  you  will  hear  London 
as  if  it  sounded  fifty  miles  off." 

He  bowed  and  retired,  and  the  two  (Emiha 
thankful.  Sir  Purcell  tending  towards  anger),  follow- 
ing his  indication,  soon  found  themselves  in  a  most 
perfect  retreat,  the  solitude  of  which  they  had  the 
misfortune,  however,  of  destroying  for  another  scared 
coui)le. 

Here  Emilia  said :  "I  have  determined  to  go  to 
Italy  at  once.  Mr.  Pericles  has  offered  to  pay  for 
me.  It's  my  father's  wish.  And — and  I  cannot 
wait  and  feel  like  a  beggar.  I  must  go.  I  shall 
always  love  England — don't  fear  that !  " 

Sir  Pm'cell  smiled  at  the  simplicity  of  her 
pleadmg  look. 

"  Now,  I  want  to  know  where  to  find  Mr.  Pericles," 
she  pursued.  "  And  if  you  will  come  to  him  with 
me  !  He  is  sure  to  be  very  angry — I  thought  you 
might  protect  me  from  that.     But  when  he  hears 


HER   VOICE    FAILS.  51 

that  I  am  really  going  at  last — at  once  ! — lie  can 
laugh  sometimes  !  you  will  see  him  rub  his  hands." 

"I  must  inquire  where  his  chambers  are  to  be 
found,"  said  Sir  Purcell. 

"  Oh !  anybody  in  the  City  must  know  him, 
because  he  is  so  rich."  Emilia  coughed.  "  This 
fog  kills  me.  Pray  make  haste.  Dear  friend,  I 
trouble  you  very  much,  but  I  want  to  get  away  from 
this.  I  can  hardly  breathe.  I  shall  have  no  heart 
for  my  task,  if  I  don't  see  him  soon." 

"Wait  for  me,  then,"  said  Sir  Purcell;  "you 
cannot  wait  in  a  better  place.  And  I  must  entreat 
you  to  be  careful."  He  half  alluded  to  the  adjust- 
ment of  her  shawl,  and  to  anything  else,  as  far  as 
she  might  choose  to  apprehend  him.  Her  dexterity 
in  tossing  him  the  letter  over  might,  unseen  by 
Madame  ^Marini,  have  frightened  liim  and  given 
him  a  dread  that,  albeit  woman,  there  was  germ  of 
wickedness  in  her.  This  pained  him  acutely,  for 
he  never  forgot  that  she  had  been  the  means  uf  his 
introduction  to  Cornelia,  from  whom  he  could  not 
wholly  dissociate  her  :  and  the  idea  that  any  pro- 
spective shred  of  impurity  hung  about  one  who  had 
even  looked  on  his  beloved,  was  utter  anguish  to 
this  keen  sentimentalist.  "  Be  very  careful,"  he 
would  have  repeated,  but  that  he  had  a  warning 

jl;  2 

U-  OF  ILL  LIB. 


52  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

sense  of  the  ludicrous,  and  Emilia's  large  eyes 
when  they  fixed  calmly  on  a  face  were  not  of  a 
flighty  cast.  She  stood,  too,  with  the  '  dignity  of 
sadness,'  as  he  was  pleased  to  phi'ase  it. 

"  She  must  be  safe  here,"  he  said  to  himself. 
And  yet,  upon  reflection,  he  decided  not  to  leave 
her,  peremptorily  informing  her  to  that  eff'ect. 
Emilia  took  his  arm,  and  as  they  were  passing 
through  the  hall  of  entrance  they  met  the  same 
gentleman  who  had  directed  them  to  this  spot  of 
quiet.  Both  she  and  Sir  Purcell  heard  him  say  to 
a  companion  :  "  There  she  is."  A  deep  glow  covered 
Emilia's  face.  "  Do  they  know  you  ?  "  asked  Sir 
Purcell.  "  No/'  she  said  :  and  then  he  turned,  but 
the  couple  had  gone  on. 

"  That  deserves  chastisement,"  he  muttered. 
Briefly  telling  her  to  wait,  he  pursued  them. 
Emilia  was  standing  in  the  gateway,  not  at  all 
comprehending  why  she  was  alone.  "  Sandra  Bel- 
loni  !  "  struck  her  ear.  Looking  forward  she  per- 
ceived a  hand  and  a  head  gesticulating  from  a 
cab-window.  She  sprang  out  into  the  street,  and 
instantl}^  the  hand  clenched  and  the  head  glared 
savagel3\  It  was  Mr.  Pericles  himself,  in  travelling 
costume. 

"  I  am  your  fool  ?  "  he  began,  overbearing  Emilia's 


HER   VOICE   FAILS.  53 

most  irritating  "  How  are  you  ?  "  and  "  Are  you  quite 
weU  ?  " 

"  I  am  your  fool  ?  liein  ?  You  send  me  to  Paris  ! 
to  Geneve  !  I  go  over  Lago  Maggiore,  and  aha  !  it 
is  your  joke,  Meess  !  I  juste  return.  Oh,  capital ! 
At  Milano  I  wait — I  inquire — till  a  letter  from  old 
Belloni,  and  I  learn  I  am  your  fool — of  you  all ! 
Jomp  in." 

*'  A  gentleman  is  coming,"  said  Emilia,  by  no 
means  intimidated,  though  the  forehead  of  Mr. 
Pericles  looked  portentous.  "  He  was  bringing  me 
to  you.'' 

**  Zen,  jomp  in  !  "  cried  Mr.  Pericles. 
Here  Sir  Purcell  came  up. 
Emilia  said  softly  :  "  Mr.  Pericles." 
There  was  the  form  of  a  bow  of  moderate  recog- 
nition  between  them,   but  other  hats   were   off  to 
Emilia.     The  two  gentlemen  who  had  offended  Sir 
Purcell  had  insisted,  on  learning  the  nature  of  their 
offence,  that  they  had  a  right  to  present  theu*  regi'ets 
to  the  lady  in  person,  and  beg  an  excuse  from  her  lips. 
Sir  Purcell  stood  white  with  a  futile  effort  at  self- 
control,  as  one  of  them,  preluding  ^'Pardon  me," 
said  :  "  I  had  the  misfortune  to  remark  to  my  friend, 
as  I  passed  3'ou,  '  There  she  is.'      May  I,  indeed, 
ask  your  pardon  ?     My  friend  is  an  artist.     I  met 


54  EMILIA   IN  ENGLAND. 

him  after  I  had  first  seen  you.  He,  at  least,  does 
not  think  foolish  my  recommendation  to  him  that 
he  should  look  on  you  at  all  hazards.  Let  me 
petition  jon  to  overlook  the  impertinence." 

"I  think,  gentlemen,  you  have  now  made  the 
most  of  the  advantage  my  folly,  in  supposing  you 
would  regret  or  apologise  fittingly  for  an  impro- 
priety, has  given  you,"  interposed  Sir  Purcell. 

His  new  and  superior  tone  (for  he  had  previously 
lost  his  temper,  and  spoken  with  a  silly  vehemence) 
caused  them  to  hesitate.  One  begged  the  word  of 
pardon  from  Emilia  to  cover  his  retreat.  She  gave 
it  with  an  air  of  thorough-bred  repose,  saying,  "  I 
willingly  pardon  you,"  and  looking  at  them  no 
more,  whereupon  they  vanished.  Ten  minutes 
later,  Emilia  and  Sir  Purcell  were  in  the  chambers 
of  ]\Ir.  Pericles. 

The  Greek  had  done  nothing  but  grin  obnox- 
iously to  ever}^  word  spoken  on  the  way,  di'aT\ing  his 
hand  down  across  his  jaw,  to  efface  the  hard,  pale 
wrinkles,  and  eyeing  Emilia's  cavalier  with  his 
shrewdest  suspicious  look. 

"  You  will  excuse," — ^he  pointed  to  the  confusion 
of  the  room  they  were  in,  and  the  heap  of  unopened 
letters, — "  I  am  from  ze  continent;  I  do  not  expect 
ze  pleasure.     A  seat  ?  " 


HER   VOICE    FAILS.  55 

Mr.  Pericles  handed  chaii's  to  his  visitors. 

*'  It  is  a  climate,  is  it  not  ?  "  lie  resumed. 

Emilia  said  a  word,  and  he  snaj^ped  at  her, 
immediately  adding,  *'  Hein  ?  Ah  !  so  !  "  with  a 
charming  urbanity. 

"How  lucky  that  we  should  meet  you,"  exclaimed 
Emilia.  "We  were  just  coming  to  3'ou — to  find 
out,  I  mean,  where  you  were,  and  call  on  3'ou." 

"  Ongh !  do  not  tell  me  lies,"  said  Mr.  Pericles, 
clasping  the  hollow  of  his  cheeks  between  thumb 
and  forefinger. 

"  Allow  me  to  assm^e  you  that  what  Miss  Belloni 
has  said  is  perfectly  correct,"  Sir  Pui'cell  remai'ked. 

Mr.  Pericles  gave  a  short  bow.  "  It  is  ze  same ; 
I  am  much  obliged." 

"And  you  have  just  come  from  Italy  ? '^  said 
EmiHa. 

"  Where  you  did  me  ze  favoiu'  to  send  me,  it  is 
true.     Sanks ! " 

"  Oh,  what  a  difference  between  Italy  and  this  !  " 
Emilia  tui-ned  her  face  to  the  mottled  yellow 
windows. 

"  Many  sanks,"  repeated  Mr.  Pericles,  after  which 
the  three  continued  silent  for  a  time. 

At  last  Emilia  said,  bluntly,  "  I  have  come  to  ask 
jou  to  take  me  to  Italy." 


56  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

Mr.  Pericles  made  no  sign,  but  Sir  Purcell  leaned 
forward  to  lier  with  a  gaze  of  astonisliment,  almost 
of  horror. 

*'  Will  you  take  me  ?  "  i^ersisted  Emilia. 

Still  the  sullen  Greek  refused  either  to  look  at 
her  or  to  answer. 

"Because  I  am  ready  to  go,"  she  went  on.  I 
want  to  go  at  once;  to-day,  if  you  like.  I  am 
getting  too  old  to  waste  an  hour." 

Mr.  Pericles  uncrossed  his  legs,  ejaculating, 
"  What  a  fog  !  Ah  !  "  and  that  was  all.  He  rose, 
and  went  to  a  cupboard. 

Sir  Purcell  murmured  hurriedly  in  Emilia's  ear, 
"  Have  you  considered  what  you've  been  saying  ?  " 

"Yes,  yes.  It  is  only  a  journey,"  Emilia  replied, 
in  a  like  tone. 

"A  journey !  " 

"  My  father  wishes  it." 

"  Your  mother  ?  " 

*'  Hush  !  I  intend  to  make  him  take  the  Madre 
with  me." 

She  designated  Mr.  Pericles,  who  had  poured  into 
a  small  liqueur  glass  some  of  the  green  Chartreuse, 
smelling  strong  of  pines.  His  visitors  declined  to 
eject  the  London  fog  by  this  aid  of  the  mountain 
monks,  and  Mr.  Pericles  warmed  himself  alone. 


HER   VOICE   FAILS.  67 

"  You  are  wiz  old  Belloni,"  he  called  out. 

"  I  am  not  staying  with  my  father,"  said  Emilia. 

"  Where  ?  "  Mr.  Pericles  shed  a  haleful  glance 
on  Sir  Purcell. 

"  I  am  staying  with  Signor  Marini." 

"  Servente,  Signor!"  Mr.  Pericles  ducked  his 
head  quite  low,  while  his  hand  swept  the  floor  with 
an  imaginary  cap.  Malice  had  lighted  up  liis 
features,  and  finding,  after  the  first  burst  of  sar- 
casm, that  it  was  vain  to  indulge  it  towards  an 
absent  person,  he  altered  his  style.  "  Look,"  he 
cried  to  Emilia,  "it  is  Marini  stops  you  and  old 
Belloni — a  conspii'ator,  aha  !  Is  it  for  an  artist  to 
conspke,  and  be  carbonaro,  and  kiss  books,  and — 
Mon  Dieu !  bon  !  it  is  Marini  plays  me  zis  trick. 
I  mark  him.  I  mark  him,  I  say !  He  is  paid  by 
young  Pole.  I  hold  zat  family  in  my  hand,  I  say  ! 
So  I  go  to  be  met  by  you,  and  on  I  go  to  Italy.  I 
get  a  letter  at  Milano, — '  Marini  stop  me  at  Dover,' 
signed  '  Giuseppe  Belloni.'  Ze  letter  have  been 
spied  into  by  ze  Austrians.  I  am  watched — I  am 
dogged — I  am  imprisoned — I  am  examined.  '  You 
know  zis  Giuseppe  Belloni  ?  '  '  Meine  Herrn  !  he 
was  to  come.  I  leave  word  at  Paris  for  him,  at  Ge- 
neve, at  Stresa,  to  bring  his  daughter  to  ze  Conserva- 
toire, for  which  I  pay.   She  has  a  voice — or  she  had.'  " 


58  EMILIA   IN   EXGLAKD. 

"  Has  !  "  exclaimed  Emilia. 

"  Had  !  "  Mr.  Pericles  repeated. 

"  She  has  !  " 

"  Zen,  sing !  "  with  which  thunder  of  command, 
Mr.  Pericles  gave  up  his  vindictive  narration  of  the 
points  of  liis  injuries  sustained,  and,  pitching  into  a 
chair,  pressed  his  fingers  to  his  temples,  frowning 
attention.  His  eyes  w^ere  on  the  floor.  Presently 
he  glanced  up,  and  saw  Emilia's  chest  rising  quicklj^ 
No  voice  issued. 

"  It  is  to  commence,"  cried  Mr.  Pericles.  "  Hein  ! 
now  sing." 

Emilia  laid  her  hand  under  her  throat.  "Not 
now !  Oh,  not  now !  When  you  have  told  me 
what  those  Austrians  did  to  you.  I  want  to  hear  ; 
I  am  very  anxious  to  hear.  And  what  they  said  of 
my  father.  How  could  he  have  come  to  Milan 
without  a  passport?  He  had  only  a  passport  to 
Paris." 

"And  at  Paris  I  leave  instructions  for  ze  pro- 
curation of  a  passport  over  Lombardy.  Am  I  not 
Antonio  Pericles  Agriolopoulos  ?     Sing,  I  say  !  " 

"  Ah  !  but  what  voices  you  must  have  heard  in 
Italy,"  said  EmiHa,  softly.  "  I  am  afraid  to  sing 
after  them.     Si :  I  dare  not." 

She  panted  little  in  keeping  with  the  cajolery  of 


HER  VOICE   FAILS.  59 

her  tones,  but  she  had  got  Mr.  Pericles  upon  a 
theme  serious  to  his  mind. 

"  Not  a  voice  !  not  one  !  "  he  ciied,  stamping  his 
foot.  "  All  is  French.  I  go  twice  wizin  six  monz, 
and  if  I  go  to  a  goose-yard  I  hear  better.  Oh,  yes ! 
it  is  tune — '  ta-ta-ta — ti-ti-ti — to  ! '  and  of  ze  heart — 
where  is  zat  ?  ]\Ion  Dieu  !  I  despair.  I  see  music 
go  dead.     Let  me  hear  you,  Sandra." 

His  enthusiasm  had  always  aifected  Emilia,  and 
painfully  since  her  love  had  given  her  a  conscious- 
ness of  infidelity  to  her  art,  but  now  the  pathetic 
appeal  to  her  took  away  her  strength,  and  tears  rose 
in  her  eyes  at  the  thought  of  his  faith  in  her.  His 
repetition  of  her  name — the  '  Sandra '  being  uttered 
with  unwonted  softness — plunged  her  into  a  fit  of 
weeping. 

"  Ah  !  "  Mr.  Pericles  shouted.  "  See  what  she 
has  come  to  ! "  and  he  walked  two  or  three  paces  off 
to  turn  upon  her  spitefully.  "  She  will  be  vapeurs, 
nerfs,  I  know  not ! — when  it  wants  a  physique 
of  a  saint !  Sandra  Belloni,"  he  added,  gravelj^ 
"  Hft  up  ze  head !  Sing,  '  Sempre  al  tuo  santo 
nome.'  " 

Emilia  checked  her  tears.  His  hand  being  raised 
to  beat  time,  she  could  not  withstand  the  signal. 
"  Sempre  " ; — there   came  two  struggling  notes,  to 


60  EMILIA    IN   ENGLAND. 

wliicli  another  clung,  sliuddering  like  two  creatures 
on  the  deeps. 

She  stopped  ;  herself  oddly  calling  out  "  Stop." 

"  Stop  who,  done  }  "  Mr.  Pericles  postured  an 
indignant  interrogation. 

*•'  I  mean,  I  must  stop,"  Emilia  faltered.  "  It's 
the  fog.  I  cannot  sing  in  this  fog.  It  chokes 
me." 

Apparently  Mr.  Pericles  was  about  to  say  some- 
thing frightfully  savage,  which  was  restrained  by 
the  presence  of  Sir  Purcell.  He  went  to  the  door 
in  answer  to  a  knock,  while  Emilia  drew  breath  as 
calmly  as  she  might;  her  head  moving  a  little 
backward  with  her  breathing  in  a  sad  mechanical 
way  painful  to  witness.  Sir  Purcell  stretched  his 
hand  out  to  her,  but  she  did  not  take  it.  She  was 
listening  to  voices  at  the  door.  Was  it  reaUy  Mr. 
Pole  who  was  there  ?  Quite  unaware  of  the  effect 
the  sight  of  her  would  produce  on  him,  Emilia  rose 
and  walked  to  the  doorway.  She  heard  Mr.  Pole 
abusing  Mr.  Pericles  half  bantermgly  for  his  absence 
while  business  was  urgent,  saying  that  they  must 
lay  their  heads  together  and  consult,  otherwise — 
a  significant  indication  appeared  to  close  the 
sentence. 

"  But  if  you've  just  come  off  your  journey,  and 


HER   VOICE    FAILS.  Gl 

have  got  a  ladj^  in  there,  we  musti^ostpone,  I  suppose. 
Say,  this  afternoon.  I'll  keep  up  to  the  mark,  if 
nothing  happens     .     .     .     . " 

Emilia  pushed  the  door  from  the  hand  of  Mr. 
Pericles,  and  was  advancing  towards  the  old  man  on 
the  landing  ;  hut  no  sooner  did  the  latter  verify  to 
his  startled  understanding  that  he  had  seen  her, 
than  with  an  exclamation  of  "  All  right !  good  hye  !" 
he  hegan  a  rapid  descent  of  the  stairs.  A  distance 
below,  he  hade  Mr.  Pericles  take  care  of  her,  and 
as  an  excuse  for  his  abrupt  retreat,  the  word  "  busy" 
sounded  up. 

"  Does  my  face  frighten  him  ?  "  Emilia  thought. 
It  made  her  look  on  herself  with  a  foreign  eye.  This 
is  a  dreadful  but  instructive  piece  of  contempla- 
tion ;  acting  as  if  the  rich  warm  blood  of  self  should 
have  ceased  to  hug  about  us,  and  we  stand  forth  to 
to  be  dissected  unresistingly.  All  Emilia's  vital 
strength  now  seemed  to  vanish.  At  the  renewal  of 
Mr.  Pericles'  peremptory  mandate  for  her  to  sing, 
she  could  neither  appeal  to  him,  nor  resist ;  but, 
raising  her  chest,  she  made  her  best  effort,  and  then 
covered  her  face.  This  was  done  less  for  con- 
cealment of  her  shame -stricken  features  than  to 
avoid  sight  of  the  stupefaction  imprinted  upon 
Mr.  Pericles. 


62  EMILIA   IN  ENGLAND. 

"  Again,  zat  A  flat !  "  he  called  sternly. 

She  tried  it. 

"  Again  !  " 

Again  she  did  her  utmost  to  accomplish  the  task. 
If  you  have  seen  a  girl  in  a  fit  of  sobs  elevate  her 
head,  with  hard-shut  eyelids,  while  her  nostrils  con- 
vulsively take  in  a  long  breath,  as  if  for  speech,  but 
it  is  expended  in  one  quick  vacant  sigh,  you  know 
how  Emiha  looked.  And  it  requires  a  humane 
nature  to  pardon  such  an  aspect  in  a  person  from 
whom  we  have  expected  triumpliing  glances  and 
strong  thrilling  tones. 

"  What  is  zis  ?  "  Mr.  Pericles  came  nearer  to 
her. 

He  would  listen  to  no  charges  against  the  atmo- 
sphere. Commanding  her  to  give  one  simple  rmi  of 
notes,  a  contr'alto  octave,  he  stood  over  her  with 
keenly  watchful  eyes.  Sir  Purcell  bade  him  take 
note  of  her  distress. 

"  I  am  much  obliged,"  Mr.  Pericles  bowed.  "  She 
is  ruined.  I  have  suspected.  Ha  !  But  I  ask  for 
a  note  !     One  !  " 

This  imperious  signal  drew  her  to  another 
attempt.  The  deplorable  sound  that  came  sent 
Emilia  sinking  down  with  a  groan. 

"  Basta,   basta !     So,  it  is    zis    tale,"    said   Mr. 


HER   VOICE   FAILS.  63 

Pericles,  after  an  observation  of  her  liuddled  shape. 

"  Did  I  not  say " 

His  voice  was  so  menacingl}^  loud  and  harsh 
that  Sir  Purcell  remarked :  "  This  is  not  the 
time  to  repeat  it — pardon  me — whatever  you 
said." 

"  Ze  fool — she  play  ze  fool  !  Sir,  I  forget  ze 
Christian — ah  !  Purcell ! — I  say  she  -plaj  ze  fool, 
and  look  at  her!  Why  is  it  she  comes  to  me 
now  ?  A  dozen  times  I  warn  her.  To  Italy  !  to 
Italy !  all  is  ready  :  you  will  have  a  place  at  ze 
Conservatorio.  No  :  she  refuse.  I  say — '  Go, 
and  you  are  a  queen.  You  are  a  Prima  at  twenty, 
and  Europe  is  beneas  you.'  No  :  she  refuse, 
and  she  is  ruined.  '  What,'  I  say,  '  what  zat 
dam  silly  smile  mean  ? '  '  Oh,  no  !  I  am  not 
lazy  ! '  '  But  you  are  a  fool ! '  '  Oh,  no  ! '  '  And 
what  are  you,  zen?  And  what  shall  j-ou  do?' 
Nussing  !  nussing !  nussmg  !  And,  dam  !  zere  is 
an  end." 

Emilia  had  caught  bhndly  at  Sir  Purcell's  hand, 
by  which  she  raised  herself,  and  then  uncoverino- 
her  face,  looked  furtively  at  the  mahgn  furnace- 
white  face  of  ^Ir.  Pericles. 

"  It  cannot  have  gone,"— she  spoke,  as  if  mentally 
balancing  the  possibility. 


64  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

"  It  has  gone,  I  sa}' ;  and  you  know  why,  Made- 
moiselle ze  Fool !  "  Mr.  Pericles  retorted. 

"  No,  no  ;  it  can't  be  gone.  Gone  ?  voices  never 
go!" 

The  reiteration  of  the  "  You  know  why,"  from 
Mr.  Pericles,  and  all  the  wretchedness  of  loss  it 
suggested,  robbed  her  of  the  little  spark  of  nervous 
fire  by  which  she  felt  half-reviving  in  courage  and 
confidence. 

"  Let  me  try  once  more,"  she  appealed  to  liim,  in 
a  frenzy. 

Mr.  Pericles,  though  fully  believing  in  his  heart 
that  it  might  only  be  a  temporary  deprivation  of 
voice,  affected  to  scout  tbe  notion  of  another  trial, 
but  finally  extended  his  fore-finger  :  "  Well,  now ; 
start!  ^  S  emigre  al  tuo  santo  ! '  Commence:  Sem — " 
and  Mr.  Pericles  hummed  the  opening  bar,  not  as 
an  unhopeful  man  would  do.  The  next  moment 
he  was  laughing  horribly.  Emilia,  to  make  sure  of 
the  thing  she  dreaded,  forced  the  note,  and  would 
not  be  denied.  What  voice  there  was  in  her  came 
to  the  summons.  It  issued,  if  I  may  so  express 
it,  ragged,  as  if  it  had  torn  through  a  briar-hedge  : 
then  there  was  a  whimper  of  tones,  and  the  eff'ect 
was  like  the  lamentation  of  a  hardly-used  urchin, 
lacking  a  certain  music  that  there  is  in  his  un- 


HER   VOICE   FAILS.  65 

doubted  heartfelt  earnestness.  No  single  note 
poised  firmly  for  the  instant,  but  swayed,  trembling 
on  its  neighbour  to  right  and  to  left :  when  pressed 
for  articulate  sound,  it  went  into  a  ghastly  whisper. 
The  laughter  of  Mr.  Pericles  was  pleasing  discord 
in  comparison. 


VOL.    III. 


CHAPTEE  lY. 

SHE    TASTES   DESPAIR. 

E]siiLiA  stretched  out  lier  hand  and  said,  "  Good 
bye."  Seeing  that  the  hardened  gii'l,  with  her  dead 
eyelids,  did  not  appear  to  feel  herself  at  his  mercy, 
and  also  that  Sir  Purcell's  forehead  looked  threaten- 
ing, Mr.  Pericles  stopped  his  sardonic  noise.  He 
went  straight  to  the  door,  which  he  opened  with 
alacrity,  and  mimicking  very  wretchedly  her  words 
of  adieu,  stood  prepared  to  bow  her  out.  She 
astonished  him  by  passing  Tvithout  another  word. 
Before  he  could  point  a  phrase  bitter  enough  for 
expression.  Sir  Purcell  had  likewise  passed,  and 
in  going  had  given  him  a  quietly  admonishing 
look. 

"Zose  Poles  are  beggars!"  Mr.  Pericles  roared 
after  them  over  the  stairs,  and  slammed  his  door 
for  emphasis.  Almost  immediately  there  was  a 
knock  at  it.  Mr.  Pericles  stood  bent  and  cat-like 
as  Su-  Purcell  reappeared.  The  latter,  avoiding  all 
preliminaries,  demanded  of  the  Greek  that  he  should 


SHE   TASTES   DESPAIR.  67 

promise  not  to  use  the  names  of  his  friends  publicly 
in  such  a  manner  again. 

"  I  require  a  promise  for  the  future.  An  apology 
will  be  needless  from  you." 

"  I  shall  not  give  it,"  said  Mr.  Pericles,  with  a 
sharp  lift  of  his  upper  lip." 

"  But  you  v;ill  give  me  the  promise  I  have  re- 
turned for." 

In  answer  Mr.  Pericles  announced  that  he  had 
spoken  what  was  simply  true  :  that  the  prosperity 
of  the  Poles  was  fictitious  :  that  he,  or  any  unfavour- 
able chance,  could  ruin  them  :  and  that  their  friends 
might  do  better  to  protect  their  interests  than  by 
menacing  one  who  had  them  in  his  power. 

Sir  Purcell  merely  reiterated  his  demand  for  the 
promise,  which  was  ultimately  snarled  to  him; 
whereupon  he  retired,  joy  on  his  featm-es.  For, 
Cornelia  poor,  she  might  be  claimed  by  him  fear- 
lessly :  that  is  to  say,  ^vithout  the  fear  of  people 
whispering  that  the  penniless  Baronet  had  sued  for 
gold,  and  without  the  fear  of  her  father  rejecting 
his  suit.  At  least  he  might,  with  this  knowledge 
that  he  had  gained,  appoint  to  meet  her  now  !  All 
the  morning  Sir  Purcell  had  been  combative,  oaring 
to  tliat  subordinate  or  secondary  post  he  occupied 
in   a  situation   of  some   excitement; — which  com- 

F  2    ■ 


68  EMILIA   IX   ENGLAND. 

bativeness  is  one  metliod  whereby  men  thus  placed, 
imagining  that  tbey  are  acting  devotedly  for  their 
friends,  contrive  still  to  assert  themselves.  He 
descended  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  where  he  had 
told  Emilia  to  wait  for  him,  full  of  kind  feelings  and 
ready  cheerful  counsels  ;  as  thus  :  "  Nothing  that  we 
possess  belongs  to  us  ;"  "  All  will  come  round  rightly 
in  the  end ;"  "  Be  patient,  look  about  for  amuse- 
ment, and  improve  your  mind."  And  more  of  this 
copi)er  coinage  of  wisdom  in  the  way  of  proverbs. 
But  Emilia  was  nowhere  visible  to  receive  the  ad- 
ministration of  comfort.  Outside  the  house  the 
fog  appeared  to  have  swallowed  her.  With  some 
chagrin  on  her  behalf  (parity  a  sense  of  duty  un- 
fulfilled) Sir  Purcell  made  his  way  to  the  residence 
of  the  Marinis,  to  report  of  her  there,  if  she  should 
not  have  arrived.  The  punishment  he  inflicted  on 
himself  in  keeping  his  hand  an  hour  from  that  letter 
to  be  written  to  Cornelia,  was  almost  pleasing ;  and 
he  was  rewarded  b}'  it,  for  the  projected  sentences 
grew  mellow  and  rich,  condensed  and  throbbed 
eloquently.  "What  wonder  that,  with  such  a  mental 
occupation,  he  should  pass  Emilia  and  not  notice 
her  ?     She  let  him  go. 

But  when  he  was  out  of  sight,  all  seemed  gone. 
The  dismally-Ughted  city  wore  a  look  of  Judgment 


SHE   TASTES   DESPAIR.  60 

terrible  to  see.  Her  brain  was  slave  to  her  senses  : 
she  fancied  she  had  dropped  into  an  underground 
kingdom^  among  a  mj'sterious  people.  The  anguish 
tlirough  which  action  had  just  hurried  her,  now  fell 
with  a  conscious  weight  upon  her  heart.  She  stood 
a  moment,  seeing  her  desolation  stretch  outwardly 
into  endless  labyrinths ;  and  then  it  narrowed  and 
took  hold  of  her  as  a  force  within  :  changing  thus, 
almost  with  each  breathing  of  her  body. 

The  fog  had  thickened.  Up  and  down  the  groping 
city  went  muffled  men,  few  women.  Emilia  looked 
for  one  of  her  sex  who  might  have  a  tender 
face.  Desire  to  be  kissed  and  loved  by  a  creature 
strange  to  her,  and  to  lay  her  head  upon  a  woman's 
bosom,  moved  her  to  gaze  around  with  a  longing 
once  or  twice  ;  but  no  eyes  met  hers,  and  the  fancy 
recurred  vividly  that  she  was  not  in  the  world  she 
had  known.  Otherwise,  what  had  robbed  her  of  her 
voice  ?  She  played  with  the  fancy  for  comfort,  long 
after  any  real  vitality  in  it  had  oozed  out.  Her 
having  strength  to  play  at  fancies  showed  that  a 
spark  of  hope  was  alive.  In  truth,  firm  of  flesh  as 
she  was,  to  believe  that  all  worth  had  departed  from 
her  was  impossible,  and  when  she  reposed  simply 
on  her  sensations,  very  little  trouble  beset  her : 
only   when   she   looked   abroad   did   the   aspect  of 


70  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

numerous  indifferent  faces,  and  the  harsh  flowing  of 
the  world  its  own  way,  tell  her  she  had  lost  her 
power.  Could  it  he  lost  ?  The  prospect  of  her 
desolation  grew  so  wide  to  her  that  she  shut  her 
eyes,  abandoning  herself  to  feeling;  and  this  by 
degrees  moved  her  to  turn  back  and  throw  herself 
at  the  feet  of  Mr.  Pericles.  For,  if  he  said,  "  Wait, 
my  child,  and  all  will  come  round  well,"  she  was 
prepared  blindly  to  think  so.  The  projection  of  the 
words  in  her  mind  made  her  ready  to  weep  :  but  as 
she  neared  the  house  where  he  lived,  the  wish  to 
hear  him  speak  that,  became  passionate ;  she  counted 
all  that  depended  on  it,  and  discovered  the  size  of 
the  fabric  she  had  built  on  so  thin  a  plank.  After 
a  while,  her  steps  were  mechanicall}"  swift.  Before 
she  reached  the  chambers  of  Mr.  PericTes  she  had 
walked,  she  knew  not  why,  once  round  the  little 
quiet  enclosed  city-garden,  and  a  cold  memory  of 
those  men  who  Jiad  looked  at  her  face  gave  her 
some  wonder,  to  be  quickly  kindled  into  fuller  com- 
prehension. 

Beholding  Emilia  once  more,  Mr.  Pericles  enjoyed 
a  revival  of  his  taste  for  vengeance ;  but,  unhappily 
for  her,  he  found  it  languid,  and  when  he  had  rubbed 
his  hands,  stared,  and  by  sundry  sharp  utterances 
brought   her  to  his   feet,  his  satisfaction  was  less 


SHE   TASTES   DESPAIK.  71 

poignant  than  he  had  expected.  As  a  consequence, 
instead  of  speaking  outrageously,  according  to  his 
habit,  in  wrath,  he  was  now  frigidly  considerate, 
informing  Emilia  that  it  would  be  good  for  her  if 
she  were  dead,  seeing  that  she  was  of  no  use  what- 
ever ;  but,  as  she  was  alive,  she  had  better  go  to  her 
father  and  mother,  and  learn  knitting,  or  some  such 
industrial  employment.     "  Unless  zat  man  for  whom 

you   play  fool ! "     !Mr.  Pericles   shrugged  the 

rest  of  his  meaning. 

"  But  my  voice  may  not  be  gone,"  urged  Emilia. 
"I  may  sing  to  you  to-morrow — this  evening.  It 
must  be  the  fog.  Why  do  you  think  it  lost  ?  It 
can't  be. 

"  Cracked  !  "  cried  Mr.  Pericles. 

"It  is  not!  Xo;  do  not  think  it..  I  must  stay 
here.  Don't  tell  me  to  go  yet.  The  streets  make 
me  wish  to  die.  And  I  feel  I  may,  perhaps,  sing 
presently.     Wait.     WiU  you  wait  ?  " 

A  hideous  imitation  of  her  lamentable  tones  burst 
from  Mr.  Pericles.     "  Cracked  !  "  he  cried  again. 

Emilia  lifted  her  eyes,  and  looked  at  him  steadily. 
She  saw  the  idea  grow  in  the  eyes  fronting  her  that 
she  had  a  pleasant  face,  and  she  at  once  staked  this 
little  bit  of  newly-conceived  worth  on  an  immediate 
chance.     Remember,  that  she  was  as  near  despair 


72  EMILIA   IX   ENGLAND. 

as  a  creature  constituted  so  healthily  could  go. 
Si3eakiDg  no  longer  in  a  girlish  style,  but  with  the 
grave  pleading  manner  of  a  woman,  she  begged 
ISIr.  Pericles  to  take  her  to  Italy,  and  have  faith  in 
the  recovery  of  her  voice.  He,  however,  far  from 
being  softened  as  he  grew  aware  of  her  sweetness  of 
featui'e,  waxed  violent  and  insulting. 

"  Take  me,"  she  said.  "  My  voice  will  reward 
you.     I  feel  that  you  can  cure  it. 

"  For  zat  man  !  to  go  to  him  again  !  "  Mr.  Pericles 
sneered. 

"  I  never  shall  do  that."  There  sprang  a  glitter 
as  of  steel  in  Emilia's  eyes.  "  I  will  make  myself 
3'ours  for  life,  if  you  like.  Take  my  hand,  and  let 
me  swear.  I  do  not  break  ni}^  word.  I  will  swear, 
that  if  I  recover  my  voice  to  become  what  you 
expected, — I  will  marr}^  you  whenever  you  ask  me, 
and  then " 

More  she  was  saj-ing,  but  Mr.  Pericles,  sputtering 
a  laugh  of  "  Sanks  !  "  presented  a  postured  suppli- 
cation for  silence. 

"  I  am  not  a  man  who  marries." 

He  plainly  stated  the  relations  that  the  woman 
whom  he  had  distinguished  b}^  the  honours  of 
selection  must  hold  towards  him. 

Emilia's  cheeks  did  not  redden  ;  but,  without  any 


SHE   TASTES   DESPAIR.  73 

notion  of  shame  at  the  words  she  listened  to,  she 
felt  herself  falling  lower  and  lower  tlie  more  her 
spirit  clung  to  Mr.  Pericles  :  yet  he  alone  was  her 
visible  personification  of  hope,  and  she  could  not 
tiu-n  from  him.  If  he  cast  her  off,  it  seemed  to 
her  that  her  voice  was  condemned.  She  stood 
there  still,  and  the  cold-eyed  Greek  formed  his 
opinion. 

He  was  evidently  undecided  as  regards  his  own 
course  of  proceeding,  for  his  chin  was  pressed  by 
thumb  and  forefinger  hard  into  his  throat,  while  his 
eyebrows  were  wrinkled  up  to  their  highest  eleva- 
tion. From  this  attitude,  expressive  of  the  accurate 
balancing  of  the  claims  of  an  internal  debate,  he 
emerged  into  the  posture  of  a  cock  crowing,  and 
Emilia  heard  again  his  bitter  mimicry  of  her  miser- 
able broken  tones,  followed  by  "  Ha  !  dam  !  Basta, 
basta ! " 

"  Sit  here,"  cried  Mr.  Pericles.  He  had  thrown 
himself  into  a  chak,  and  pointed  to  his  knee. 

Emilia  remained  where  she  was  standing. 

He  caught  at  her  hand,  but  she  plucked  that  from 
him.    Mr.  Pericles  rose,  sounding  a  cynical  '•'  Hein  !  " 

"  Don't  touch  me,"  said  Emilia. 

Nothing  exasperates  certain  natures  so  much  as 
the  effort  of  the  visibly  weak  to  intimidate  them. 


74  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAJbTD. 

"  I  shall  not  touch  you  ?  "  Mr.  Pericles  sneered. 
**  Zen,  why  are  you  here  ?  " 

"  I  came  to  my  friend,"  was  Emilia's  reply. 

*'  Your  friend  !  He  is  not  ze  friend  of  a  couac- 
couac.  Once,  if  you  please  :  but  now  "  (Mr.  Pericles 
shrugged),  "  now  you  are  like  ze  rest  of  women. 
You  are  game.     Come  to  me." 

He  caught  once  more  at  her  hand,  which  she- 
lifted  ;  then  at  her  elbow. 

"  Will  you  touch  me  when  I  tell  you  not  to  ?  " 

There  was  the  soft  line  of  an  involuntary  frown 
over  her  white  face,  and  as  he  held  her  arm  from 
the  doubled  elbow,  with  her  clenched  hand  aloft, 
she  appeared  ready  to  strike  a  tragic  blow. 

Anger  and  every  other  sentiment  vanished  from 
Mr.  Pericles  in  the  rapturous  contemplation  of  her 
admirable  artistic  pose. 

"  Mon  Dieu !  and  wiz  a  voice!"  he  exclaimed, 
dashing  his  fist  in  a  delirium  of  forgetfulness 
against  the  one  plastered  lock  of  hair  on  his  shining 
head.  "  Little  fool !  little  dam  fool ! — zat  might 
have  been  " — (Mr.  Pericles  figured  in  air  with  his 
fingers  to  signify  the  exaltation  she  was  to  have 
attained) — "  Mon  Dieu  !  and  look  at  you  !  Did  I 
not  warn  you  ?  non  e  vero  ?  Did  I  not  say  *  Ruin, 
ruin,  if  you  go  so  ?     For  a  man  ! — a  voice  ! '     You 


SHE   TASTES   DESPAIR.  76 

will  not  come  to  me  ?  Zen,  hear  !  you  shall  go  to 
old  Belloni.  I  do  not  want  you,  my  pretty  dear. 
Woman  is  a  ti'ouble,  a  drug.  You  shall  go  to  old 
Belloni ;  and,  crack  !  if  ze  voice  will  come  back  to 
a  whip, — bravo,  old  Belloni !  " 

Mr.  Pericles  tui-ned  to  reach  down  his  hat  from  a 
peg.    At  the  same  instant  Emiha  quitted  the  room. 

Dusk  was  deepening  the  yellow  atmosphere,  and 
the  crowd  was  now  steadily  flowing  in  one  dii'ection. 
The  bereaved  creatm^e  went  with  the  stream,  glad  to 
be  surrounded  and  unseen,  till  it  struck  her,  at  last, 
that  she  was  moving  homeward.  She  stopped  with 
a  pang  of  grief,  turned,  and  met  all  those  peoj)le  to 
whom  the  fireside  was  a  beacon.  For  some  time 
she  bore  against  the  pressure,  but  her  lonehness 
overwhelmed  her.  None  seemed  to  go  her  way. 
For  a  refuge,  she  turned  into  one  of  the  City  side 
streets,  where  she  was  quite  alone.  Unhappily,  the 
street  was  of  no  length,  and  she  soon  came  to  the 
end  of  it.  There  was  the  choice  of  retracincj  her 
steps,  or  entering  a  strange  street ;  and  while  she 
hesitated  a  troop  of  sheep  went  by,  that  made 
a  piteous  noise.  She  followed  them,  thinking 
curiously  of  the  something  broken  that  appeared 
to  be  in  their  throats.  By-and-by,  the  thought 
flashed  in  her  that  they  were  going  to  be  slaugh- 


/b  EMILIA   IX   ENGLAND. 

terecl.  She  lielcl  lier  step,  looking  at  tliem,  but 
without  any  tender  movement  of  the  heart.  They 
came  to  a  butcher's  javd,  and  went  in. 

"When  she  had  passed  along  a  certain  distance, 
a  shiver  seized  her,  and  her  instinct  pushed  her 
towards  the  lighted  shops,  where  there  were  pic- 
tures. In  one  she  saw  the  portrait  of  that  Queen 
of  Song  whom  she  had  heard  at  Besworth.  Two 
young  men,  glancing  as  they  walked  by  arm  in  arm, 
pronounced  the  name  of  the  great  enchantress,  and 
hummed  one  of  her  triumphant  airs.  The  features 
expressed  health,  humour,  power,  every  fine  animal 
facult}'.  Genius  was  on  the  forehead  and  the 
plastic  mouth ;  the  forehead  being  well  projected, 
fair,  and  very  shapely,  showing  clear  balance,  as 
well  as  capacity  to  grasp  flame,  and  fling  it.  The 
line  reaching  to  a  dimple  from  the  upper  lip  was 
saved  from  scornfulness  by  the  lovely  gleam,  half- 
challenging,  half-consoling,  regal,  roguish — what  you 
would — that  sat  between  her  dark  eyelashes,  like 
white  sunlight  on  the  fringed  smooth  roll  of  water 
by  a  weir.  Such  a  dimple,  and  such  a  gleam  of 
eyes,  would  have  been  keys  to  the  face  of  a  weak- 
ling, and  it  was  the  more  fascinating  from  the 
disregard  of  any  minor  charm  notable  upon  this 
grand  visage,   which   could   not  suffer   a  betrayal. 


SHE   TASTES   DESPAIR.  77 

You  saw,  and  there  was  no  effoii;  to  conceal,  that 
the  spiiit  animating  it  was  intensely  human;  but 
it  was  human  of  the  highest  chords  of  humanity, 
indifferent  to  finesse  and  despising  subtleties ;  gifted 
to  speak,  to  inspire,  and  to  command  all  great 
emotions.  In  fact,  it  was  the  masque  of  a  dramatic 
artist  in  repose.  Tempered  by  beauty,  the  robust 
frame  showed  that  she  possessed  a  royal  nature,  and 
could,  as  a  foremost  qualification  for  art,  feel  har- 
moniously. She  might  have  many  of  the  little- 
nesses of  which  women  are  accused ;  for  Art  she 
promised  unspotted  excellence ;  and,  adorable  as 
she  was  by  attraction  of  her  sex,  she  was  artist 
over  all. 

Emilia  found  herself  on  one  of  the  bridges, 
thinking  of  this  aspect.  Beneath  her  was  the 
stealing  river,  with  its  red  intervals,  and  the  fog 
had  got  a  wider  circle.  She  could  not  disengage 
that  face  from  her  mind.  It  seemed  to  say  to  her, 
boldly,  "  I  live  because  success  is  mine ;  "  and  to 
hint,  as  with  a  paler  voice,  "  Death  the  fruit  of 
failure."  Could  she,  Emilia,  ever  be  looked  on 
again  by  her  friends  ?  The  dread  of  it  gave  her 
shudders.  Then,  death  was  certainly  easy !  But 
death  took  no  form  in  her  imagination,  as  it  does  to 
one  seeking  it.     She  desired  to  forget  and  to  hide 


78  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

her  intolerable  losses ;  to  have  the  unpostor  she  felt 
herself  to  be,  buried.  As  she  walked  along,  she 
held  out  her  hands,  murmuring,  "  Helpless !  use- 
less ! "  It  came  upon  her  as  a  surprise  that  one 
like  herself  should  be  allowed  to  live.  "  I  don't 
want  to,"  she  said;  and  the  next  moment,  "I 
wonder  what  a  drowned  woman  is  like  ?  "  She 
hurried  back  to  the  streets  and  the  shops.  The 
shops  failed  now  to  give  her  distraction,  for  a  stiff 
and  dripping  image  floated  across  all  the  windows, 
and  she  was  glad  to  see  the  shutters  being  closed  ; 
though,  when  the  streets  were  dark,  some  friend- 
liness seemed  to  have  gone.  When  the  streets  were 
quite  dark,  save  for  the  rows  of  lamps,  she  walked 
fast,  fearing  she  knew  not  what. 

A  little  Italian  boy  sat  doubled  over  his  organ 
on  a  doorstep,  while  a  3'et  smaller  girl,  at  his 
elbow,  plied  him  with  questions  in  English.  Emiha 
stopped  before  them,  and  the  girl  complained  to 
her  that  the  perverse  little  foreigner  would  not 
answer.  Two  or  three  words  in  his  native  tongue 
soon  brought  his  face  to  view.  Emiha  sat  down 
between  them,  and  listened  to  the  prattle  of  two 
languages.  The  girl  said  that  she  never  had 
supper,  which  was  also  the  case  with  the  boy ;  so 
Emilia  felt  for  her  purse,  and  sent  the  girl  with 


SHE  TASTES   DESPAIR.  79 

sixpence  in  search  of  a  shop  that  sokl  cakes.  The 
girl  came  back  with  her  apron  full.  As  they  were 
all  about  to  eat,  a  policeman  commanded  them  to 
quit  the  spot,  informing  them  that  he  knew  both 
them  and  their  dodges.  Emilia  stood  up,  and  was 
taking  her  little  people  away,  when  the  policeman, 
having  suddenly  changed  his  accm-ate  opinion  of 
her,  said,  "  You're  giving  'em  some  supper,  miss  ? 
Oh,  they  must  sit  down  to  their  suppers,  you 
know !  "  and  walked  away,  not  to  be  a  witness  of 
this  infraction  of  the  law.  So,  they  sat  down  and 
ate,  and  the  boy  and  girl  tried  to  say  intelligible 
things  to  one  another,  and  laughed.  Emilia  could 
not  help  joining  in  their  laughter.  The  girl  was 
very  anxious  to  know  whether  the  boy  was  ever 
beaten,  and  hearing  that  he  was,  she  ai)peai'ed 
better  satisfied,  remarkhig  that  she  was  also,  but 
cui'ious  still  as  to  the  different  forms  of  chastise- 
ment they  received.  This  being  partially  explained, 
she  wished  to  know  whether  he  would  be  beaten 
that  night,  Emilia  interpreting.  A  gi'in,  and  a 
rapid  whistle  and  '  cluck,'  significant  of  the  appli- 
cation of  whips,  told  the  state  of  his  expecta- 
tions ;  at  which  the  girl  clapped  her  hands,  adding, 
lamentably,  "  So  shall  I,  'cause  I  am  always." 
Emilia  gathered  them  under  each  shoulder,  when. 


80  EMILIA   IX   ENGLAND. 

to  lier  deliglit  aud  half  perplexity,  they  closed  their 
eyes,  leaning  against  her.  The  policeman  passed, 
and  for  an  hour  endured  this  spectacle.  At  last  he 
felt  compelled  to  explain  to  Emilia  what  were  the 
sentiments  of  gentlefolks  with  regard  to  their  door- 
steps, apart  from  the  law  of  the  matter.  He  put  it 
to  her  human  nature  whether  she  would  like  her 
doorsteps  to  he  blocked,  so  that  no  one  could  enter, 
and  any  one  emerging  stood  a  chance  of  being 
precipitated,  nose  foremost,  upon  the  pavement. 
Then,  again,  as  gentlefolks  had  good  experience 
of,  the  young  ones  in  London  were  twice  as  cunning 
as  the  old.  Emiha  i)leaded  for  her  sleeping  pair, 
that  they  might  not  be  disturbed.  Her  voice  gave 
the  keeper  of  the  peace  notions  of  her  being  one 
of  the  eccentric  young  ladies  who  are  occasion- 
ally 'missing,'  and  have  advertising  friends.  He 
uttered  a  stern  ahem  !  preliminary  to  assent ;  but 
the  noise  wakened  the  children,  who  stared,  and 
readily  obeyed  his  gesture,  which  said,  "Be  off!" 
while  his  words  were  those  of  remonstrance.  Emiha 
accompanied  them  a  little  way.  Both  promised 
eagerly  that  they  would  be  at  the  same  place  the 
night  following,  and  departed — the  boy  with  laughing 
nods  and  waving  of  hands,  which  the  girl  imitated. 
Emilia's  feeling  of  security  went  with  them.    She  at 


SHE   TASTES   DESPAIR.  81 

once  feigned  a  destination  in  the  distance,  and  set 
forward  to  reach  it,  but  the  continued  exposure 
of  this  delusion  made  it  difficult  to  renew.  She 
fell  to  counting  the  hours  that  were  to  elapse  before 
she  would  meet  those  children,  saying  to  herself, 
that  whatever  she  did  she  must  keep  her  engage- 
ment to  be  at  the  appointed  steps.  This  restriction 
set  her  darkly  fancying  that  she  wished  for  her  end. 
Eemembering  those  men  who  had  looked  at  her 
admiringly,  "  Am  I  worth  looking  at  ?  "  she  said ; 
and  it  gave  her  some  pleasure  to  think  that  she  had 
it  still  in  her  power  to  destroy  a  thing  of  value. 
She  was  savagely  ashamed  of  going  to  death  empty- 
handed.  By  and  by,  great  fatigue  stiffened  her 
limbs,  and  she  sat  down  from  piuT  want  of  rest. 
The  luxmy  of  rest  and  soothing  languor  kept  hard 
thoughts  away.  She  felt  as  if  floating,  for  a  space. 
The  fear  of  the  streets  left  her.  But  when  necessity 
for  rest  had  gone,  she  clung  to  the  luxury  still,  and 
sitting  bent  forward,  with  her  hands  about  her 
knees,  she  began  to  brood  over  tumbled  images 
of  a  wrong  done  to  her.  She  had  two  distinct 
visions  of  herself,  constantly  alternating  and  acting 
like  the  temptation  of  two  devils.  One  represented 
her  despicable  in  feature,  and  bade  her  die ;  the 
other  showed  a  fair  face,  feeling  wliich  to  be  her 

VOL.    III.  G 


OZ  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

own,  Emilia  had  fits  of  intolerable  rage.  This 
vision  prevailed ;  and  this  wicked  side  of  her 
humanity  saved  her.  Active  despair  is  a  passion 
that  must  be  superseded  by  a  passion.  Passive 
despair  comes  later;  it  has  nothing  to  do  Avith 
mental  action,  and  is  mainly  a  corruption  or 
degradation  of  our  blood.  The  rage  in  Emilia 
was  blind  at  first,  but  it  rose  like  a  hawk,  and 
singled  its  enemy.  She  fixed  her  mind  to  conceive 
the  foolishness  of  putting  out  a  face  that  her  rival 
might  envy,  and  of  destroying  anything  that  had 
value.  The  flattery  of  beauty  came  on  her  like  a 
warm  ganiient.  When  she  opened  her  eyes,  seeing 
what  she  was,  and  where,  she  almost  smiled  at  the 
silly  picture  that  had  given  her  comfort.  Those 
men  had  looked  on  her  admiringly,  it  was  true,  but 
would  Wilfrid  have  ceased  to  love  her,  if  she  had 
been  beautiful  ?  An  extraordinary  intuition  of 
Wilfrid's  sentiment  tormented  her  now.  She  saw 
herself  in  the  light  that  he  would  have  seen  her  by, 
till  she  stood  with  the  sensations  of  an  exposed 
criminal  in  the  dark  length  of  the  street,  and 
hurried  down  it,  back,  as  well  as  she  could  find 
her  way,  to  the  friendly  policeman.  Her  question 
on  reaching  him,  "  Are  you  married  ? "  was  pro- 
digiously   astonishing,    and    he    administered    the 


SHE   TASTES   DESPAIR.  83 

rebuff  of  an  affirmative  with  severity.  "  Then," 
said  Emiliaj  "  when  jou  go  home,  let  me  go  with 
you  to  your  wife.  Perhaps  she  will  consent  to  take 
care  of  me  for  this  night."  The  policeman  coughed 
milcU}',  and  replied,  "  It's  plain  you  know  nothing 
of  women — begging  your  pardon,  miss, — for  I  can 
see  j^ou're  a  lady."  Emilia  repeated  her  petition, 
and  the  policeman  explained  the  nature  of  women. 
Not  to  be  baffled,  Emilia  said,  "  I  think  your  wife 
must  be  a  good  woman."  Hereat  the  policeman 
laughed,  affirming  "that  the  best  of  them  knew 
what  bad  suspicions  was."  Ultimately,  he  con- 
sented to  take  her  to  his  ^vife,  when  he  was  relieved, 
after  the  term  of  so  many  minutes.  Emilia  stood 
at  a  distance,  speculating  on  the  possible  choice  he 
would  make  of  a  tune  to  accompany  his  monotonous 
walk  to  and  fro,  and  on  the  certainty  of  his  wearing 
any  tune  to  nothing. 

She  was  in  a  bed,  sleeping  heavily,  a  little  be- 
fore da^vn. 

The  day  that  followed  was  her  day  of  misery. 
The  blow  that  had  stunned  her  had  become  as  a 
loud  intrusive  pulse  in  her  head.  By  this  new 
daylight  she  fathomed  the  depth,  and  reckoned  the 
value,  of  her  loss.  And  her  senses  had  no  pleasure 
in   the   light,   though   there   Vvas     sunshine.      The 

G  2 


84  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

woman  who  was  her  hostess  was  kind,  but  full  of 
her  first  surprise  at  the  strange  visit,  and  too  openly- 
read}^  for  any  information  the  young  lady  might  be 
willing  to  give  with  regard  to  her  condition,  pros- 
pects, and  wishes.  Emilia  gaA'e  none.  She  took 
the  woman's  hand,  asking  permission  to  remain 
under  her  protection.  The  woman  by  and  by 
named  a  sum  of  money  as  a  sum  for  weekly  pay- 
ment, and  Emilia  transferred  to  her  all  that  she 
had.  The  policeman  and  his  wife  thought  her, 
though  reasonable,  a  trifle  insane.  She  sat  at  a 
window  for  hours  watching  a  ^  last  man  '  of  the  fly 
species  walking  up  and  plunging  down  a  pane  of 
glass.  On  this  transparent  solitary  field  for  the 
most  objectless  enterprise  ever  undertaken,  he 
buzzed  angrily  at  times,  as  if  he  had  another  mean- 
ing in  him,  which  was  being  wilfully  misinterpreted. 
Then  he  mounted  again  at  his  leisure,  to  pitch 
backward  as  before.  Emilia  found  herself  thinking 
with  great  seriousness  that  it  was  not  wonderful  for 
boys  to  be  always  teasing  and  killing  flies,  whose 
thin  necks  and  bobbing  heads  themselves  suggested 
the  idea  of  decapitation.  She  said  to  her  hostess  : 
"  I  don't  like  flies.  They  seem  never  to  sing  but 
when  they  are  bothered."  The  woman  replied : 
"  Ah,  indeed  ?  "  very  smoothly,  and  thought :  "  If 


SHE   TASTES   DESPAIR.  85 

you  was  to  bust  out  now,  which  of  us  two  would  be 
strongest  ?  "  Emilia  grew  distantly  aware  that  the 
policeman  and  his  wife  talked  of  her  and  watched 
her  with  combmed  observation.  When  it  was  night 
she  went  to  keep  her  appointment.  The  girl  w^as 
there,  but  the  boy  came  late.  He  said  he  had 
earned  only  a  few  pence  that  day,  and  would  be 
beaten.  He  spoke  in  a  whimpering  tone  which 
caused  the  girl  to  desire  a  translation  of  his  words. 
Emilia  told  her  how  things  were  with  him,  and  the 
girl  expressed  a  wish  that  she  had  an  organ,  as  in 
that  case  she  would  be  sure  to  earn  more  than  six- 
pence a  day  ;  such  being  the  amount  that  procured 
her  nightly  a  comfortable  reception  in  the  arms  of 
her  parents.  "  Do  you  like  music  ?  "  said  Emilia. 
The  girl  replied  that  she  liked  organs ;  but,  as  if  to 
avoid  committing  an  injustice,  cited  parrots  as  fore- 
most in  her  affections.  Holding  them  both  to  her 
breast,  Emilia  thought  that  she  would  rescue  them 
from  this  beating  by  giving  them  the  money  they 
had  to  offer  for  kindness :  but  the  restlessness  of 
the  children  suddenly  made  her  a  third  party  to  the 
thought  of  cakes.  She  had  no  money.  Her  heart 
bled  for  the  poor  little  hungry,  apprehensive  crea- 
tures. For  a  moment  she  half  fancied  she  had  her 
voice,  and  looked  up  at  the  windows  of  the  pitiless 


86  e:\iilia  in  England. 

houses  with  a  bold  look ;  but  there  was  a  speedy 
mockery  of  her  thought — "  You  shall  listen  :  you 
shall  open  !  "  She  coughed  hoarsely,  and  then  fell 
into  fits  of  crying.  Her  friend  the  policeman  came 
by  and  took  her  arm  with  a  force  that  he  meant  to 
be  persuasive  ;  so  lifting  her  and  handing  her  some 
steps  beyond  the  limit  of  his  beat,  with  stern 
directions  for  her  to  proceed  home  immediately. 
She  obeyed.  Next  day  she  asked  her  hostess 
to  lend  her  half-a-crown.  The  woman  snapped 
shortly  in  answer :  "  No  ;  the  less  you  have  the 
better."  Emilia  was  obliged  to  abandon  her  little 
people. 

She  was  to  this  extent  the  creature  of  mania: 
that  she  could  not  conceive  of  a  way  being  open  by 
which  she  might  return  to  her  father  and  mother, 
or  any  of  her  friends.  It  was  to  her  not  a  matter 
for  her  will  to  decide  upon,  but  simply  a  black  door 
shut  that  nothing  could  displace.  "When  the  week, 
for  which  term  of  shelter  she  had  paid,  was  ended, 
her  hostess  spoke  upon  this  point,  saying,  more  to 
convince  Emilia  of  the  necessity"  for  seeking  her 
friends  than  from  anj^  unkindness :  *'  Me  and  my 
husband  can't  go  on  keepin'  you,  you  know,  my 
dear,  however  well's  our  meaning."  Emilia  drew 
the  woman  towards  her  with  both  her  hands,  softly 


SHE    TASTES   DESPAIR.  87 

shakiDg    her    head.      She   left    the    house    about 
noon. 

It  was  now  her  belief  that  she  had  probably  no 
more  than  another  day  to  live,  for  she  was  destitute 
of  money.  The  thought  relieved  her  from  that  dread- 
ful fear  of  the  street,  and  she  walked  at  her  own 
pace,  even  after  dark.  The  rumble  and  the  rattle 
of  wheels ;  the  cries  and  grinding  noises ;  the 
hum  of  motion  and  talk ;  all  under  the  lingering, 
smoky  red  of  a  London  winter  sunset,  were  not 
discord  to  her  animated  blood.  Her  unhunted 
spirit  made  a  music  of  them.  It  was  not  like  the 
music  of  other  days,  nor  was  the  exultation  it 
created  at  all  like  happiness  :  but  she  at  least  forgot 
herself.  Voices  came  in  her  ear,  and  hung  unheard 
until  long  after  the  speaker  had  passed.  Hunger 
did  not  assail  her.  She  was  not  beset  by  an  animal 
weakness ;  and  having  in  her  mind  no  image  of 
death,  and  with  her  ties  to  life  cut  awa}^ ; — thus 
devoid  of  apprehension  or  regret,  she  was  what 
her  quick  blood  made  her,  for  the  time.  She 
recognised  that,  for  one  near  extinction,  it  was  use- 
less to  love  or  to  hate :  so  Wilfrid  and  Lady  Char- 
lotte were  spared.  Emilia  thought  of  them  both 
with  a  sort  of  equanimity ;  not  that  any  clear 
thought   filled   her   brain    through    that    delirious 


88  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

night.  The  intoxicating  music  raged  there  at  one 
level  depression,  never  rising  any  scale,  never 
undulating  ever  so  little,  scarcely  changing  its 
barbarous  monotony  of  notes.  She  had  no  power 
over  it.  Her  critical  judgment  would  at  another 
moment  have  shrieked  at  it.  She  was  moved  by  it 
as  by  a  mechanical  force. 

The  south-west  wind  blew,  and  the  hours  of  the 
night  were  not  evil  to  outcasts.  Emiha  saw  many 
lying  about,  getting  rest  where  they  might.  She 
hurr  ed  her  eye  pityingly  over  little  children,  but  the 
devil  that  had  seized  her  sprung  contempt  for  the 
others — older  beggars,  who  appeared  to  succumb  to 
their  fate  when  they  should  have  lifted  their  heads 
up  bravely.  On  she  passed  from  square  to  market, 
market  to  park ;  and  presently  her  mind  shot  an 
arrow  of  desire  for  morning,  which  was  nothing  less 
than  hunger  beginning  to  stir.  "  When  Avill  the 
shops  open  ?  "  She  tried  to  cheat  herself  by  reply- 
ing that  she  did  not  care  when,  but  pangs  of  tor- 
ment became  too  rapid  for  the  counterfeit.  Her 
imagination  raised  the  roof  from  those  great  rich 
houses,  and  laid  bare  a  brilliancy  of  dish-covers ; 
and  if  any  sharp  gust  of  air  touched  the  nerve  in 
her  nostril,  it  seemed  instantaneously  charged  with 
the  smell  of  old  dinners.     "  No,"  cried  Emilia,  "  I 


BHE   TASTES    DESPAU^  OVJ 

dislike  anything  but  plain  food."  She  quickly 
gave  way,  and  admitted  a  craving  for  dainty 
morsels.  "  One  lum^^  of  sugar  !  "  she  subsequently 
sighed.  But  neither  sugar  nor  meat  approached 
her. 

Her  seat  was  under  trees,  between  a  man  and 
a  woman  who  slanted  from  her  with  hidden  chins. 
The  chilly  dry  leaves  began  to  waken,  and  the  sky 
showed  its  grey.  Hunger  had  become  as  a  leaden 
ball  in  Emilia's  chest.  She  could  have  eaten 
eagerly  still,  but  she  had  no  ravenous  images  of 
food.  Nevertheless,  she  determined  to  beg  for 
bread  at  a  baker's  shop.  Coming  into  the  empty 
streets  again,  the  dread  of  exposing  her  solitary 
wretchedness  and  the  stains  of  night  upon  her, 
kept  her  back.  When  she  did  venture  near  the 
baker's  shop,  her  sensation  of  weariness,  want  of 
washing,  and  general  misery,  made  her  feel  a  con- 
trast to  all  other  women  she  saw,  that  robbed  her 
of  the  necessary  effronter}-.  She  preferred  to  hide  her 
head. 

The  morning  hours  went  in  this  conflict.  She 
was  betweenwhiles  hungr}-  and  desperate,  or  stricken 
with  shame.  Fatigue,  bringing  the  imperious  neces- 
sity for  rest,  intervened  as  a  relief.  Emilia  moaned 
at  the  weary  length  of  the  light,  but  when  dusk  fell 


90  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

and  she  beheld  flame  in  the  lamps,  it  seemed  to  be 
too  sudden  and  she  was  alarmed.  Passive  despair 
had  set  in.  She  felt  sick,  though  not  weak,  and 
the  thought  of  asking  help  had  gone. 

A  street  urchin,  of  the  true  London  species,  in  whom 
excess  of  woollen  comforter  made  up  for  any  marked 
scantiness  in  the  rest  of  his  attire,  came  trotting  the 
pavement,  pouring  one  of  the  favourite  tunes  of  his 
native  metropolis  through  the  tube  of  a  penny- 
whistle,  from  which  it  did  not  issue  so  disguised 
but  that  attentive  ears  might  pronounce  it  the  royal 
march  of  the  Cannibal  Islands.  A  placarded  post 
beside  a  lamp  met  this  musician's  eye  ;  and,  still 
piping,  he  bent  his  knees  and  read  the  notification. 
Emilia  thought  of  the  Hillford  and  Ipley  club -men, 
the  big  drum,  the  speeches,  the  cheers,  and  all  the 
wild  strength  that  lay  in  her  that  happy  morning. 
She  w^atched  the  boy  piping  as  if  he  were  reading 
from  a  score,  and  her  sense  of  humour  w^as  touched. 
*'  You  foolish  boy  !  "  she  said  to  herself  softly.  But 
when,  having  evidently  come  to  the  last  printed 
line,  the  boy  rose  and  pocketed  his  penny-whistle, 
Emilia  was  nearly  laughing.  "  That's  because  he 
cannot  turn  over  the  leaf,"  she  said,  and  stood  by 
the  post  till  long  after  the  boy  had  disappeared. 
The  slight  emotion  of  fun  had  restored  to  her  some 


SHE   TASTES   DESPAIR.  91 

of  her  lost  human  sensations,  and  she  looked  about 
for  a  place  where  to  indulge  them  undisturbed. 
One  of  the  bridges  was  in  sight.  She  yearned  for 
the  solitude  of  the  wharf  beside  it,  and  hurried  to 
the  steps.  To  descend  she  had  to  pass  a  street- 
organ  and  a  small  figure  bent  over  it.  "  Sei  buon' 
Italiano  ?  "  she  said.  The  answer  was  a  surly  "  Si." 
Emilia  cried  convulsively  "  Addio  !  "  Her  brain  had 
become  on  a  sudden  vacant  of  a  thouglit,  and  all 
she  knew  w^as  that  she  descended. 


CHAPTER  y. 

SHE    IS    FOUND. 

"  Sei  buon'  Italiana  ?  " 

Across  what  chasm  did  the  words  come  to  her  ? 

It  seemed  but  a  minute,  and  again  many  hours 
back,  that  she  had  asked  that  question  of  a  httle 
fellow,  who,  if  he  had  looked  up  and  nodded  would 
have  given  her  great  joy,  but  who  kept  his  face  dark 
from  her  and  with  a  sullen  "  Si "  extinguished  her 
last  feeling  of  a  desire  for  companionship  with  life. 

"  Si,"  she  replied,  quite  as  sullenly,  and  without 
looking  up. 

But  when  her  hand  was  taken  and  other  words 
were  uttered,  she  that  had  crouched  there  so  long 
betvreen  death  and  life  immovable,  loviu;^  neither, 
rose  possessed  of  a  passion  for  the  darkness  and  the 
void,  and  struggling  bitterly  with  the  detaining 
hand,  crying  for  instant  death.  No  strength  was 
in  her  to  support  the  fur3\ 

"  Merthyr  Powj's  is  with  you,"  said  her  friend, 
"  and  will  never  leave  you." 


SHE   IS   FOU^D.  93 

*'  Will  never  take  me  up  there  ?  "  Emilia  pointed 
to  the  noisy  level  above  them. 

"  Listen,  and  I  will  tell  you  how  I  have  found 
you,"  replied  ^lerthyr. 

**  Don't  force  me  to  go  up." 

She  spoke  from  the  end  of  her  breath.  ^MertlnT 
feared  that  it  was  more  than  misery,  even  madness, 
afflicting  her.  He  sat  on  the  wharf-bench  silent 
till  she  was  reassured.  But  at  his  first  words,  the 
eager  question  came  :  "  You  will  not  force  me  to 
go  up  there  ?" 

"  No  ;  we  can  stay  and  talk  here,"  said  Merthyr. 
"  And  this  is  how  I  have  found  you.  Do  you 
suppose  you  have  been  hidden  from  us  all  this 
time  ?  Perhaps  you  fancy  you  do  not  belong  to 
your  friends  ?  Y\'ell,  I  spoke  to  all  '  your  children,' 
as  you  used  to  call  them.  Do  you  remember? 
The  day  before  yesterda}^  two  had  seen  you.  You 
said  to  one,  '  From  Savoy  or  Piedmont  ? '  He  said, 
*  From  Savoy  ;'  and  you  shook  your  head  :  '  Not 
looking  on  Italy  ! '  you  said.  This  night  I  roused 
one  of  them,  and  he  stretched  his  finger  down  the 
steps,  saying  that  you  had  gone  down  there.  '  Sei 
buon'  Italiano  ?  '  you  said.  And  that  is  how  I  have 
found  you.     Sei  buon'  Italiana  ?  " 

Emilia  let  her  hand  rest  in  Mei-thp-'s,  wondering 


94  EmLIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

to  think  that  there  should  be  no  absolute  darkness 
for  a  creature  to  escape  into  while  living.  A  trem- 
bling came  on  her.  "  Let  me  look  over  at  the 
water,"  she  said;  and  Merthja-,  who  trusted  her 
even  in  that  extremity,  allowed  her  to  lean  forward, 
and  felt  her  grasp  grow  moist  in  his,  till  she  turned 
back  with  shudders,  giving  him  both  her  hands. 
''  A  drowned  woman  looks  so  dreadful ! "  Her 
speech  was  faint  as  she  begged  to  be  taken  away 
from  that  place.  Merthyr  put  his  hand  to  her 
arm-pit,  sustaining  her  steps-  As  they  neared  the 
level  where  men  were,  she  looked  behind  her  and 
realized  the  black  terrors  she  had  just  been  blindly 
handling.  Fright  sped  her  limbs  for  a  second  or 
two,  and  then  her  whole  weight  hung  upon  Merthyr. 
He  held  her  in  both  arms,  thinking  that  she  had 
swooned,  but  she  murmured :  "  Have  you  heard 
that  my  voice  has  gone  ?  " 

"  If  you  have  suffered,  I  do  not  wonder,"  he  said. 

"  I  am  useless.    My  voice  is  dead." 

"  Useless  to  your  fi'iends  ?  Tush,  my  little 
Emilia  !  Sandra  mia  !  Don't  you  know  that  while 
you  love  your  friends  that's  all  they  want  of  you  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  "  she  moaned  ;  "  the  gas -lamp  hurts  me. 
What  a  noise  there  is  ! " 

"  We  shall  soon  get  away  from  the  noise." 


SHE    IS   FOUND.  95 

"  No ;  I  like  it :  but  not  the  light.  Oh,  my 
feet  1 — why  are  you  walking  still  ?     AVhat  friends  ?  " 

"  For  instance,  myself." 

*'  You  knew  of  my  wandering  about  London  !  It 
makes  me  believe  in  Heaven.  I  can't  bear  to  think 
of  being  imseen." 

"  This  morning,"'  said  Merthyr,  "  I  saw  the 
policeman  in  whose  house  you  have  been  staying." 

Emiha  bowed  her  head  to  the  mystery  by  which 
this  friend  was  endowed  to  be  cognizant  of  her 
actions.  "  I  feel  that  I  have  not  seen  the  streets 
for  yeai's.  If  it  were  not  for  you  I  should  fall  down 
— Oh !  do  you  understand  that  my  voice  has  quite 
gone  ?  " 

Merthyr  perceived  her  anxiety  to  be  that  she 
might  not  be  taken  on  doubtful  terms.  "Your 
hand  hasn't,"  he  said,  pressing  it,  and  so  gratified 
her  with  a  concrete  image  of  something  that  she 
could  still  bestow  upon  a  friend.  To  this  she  clung 
while  the  noisy  wheels  bore  her  through  London, 
till  her  weak  body  failed  to  keep  courage  in  her 
breastj  and  she  wept  and  came  closer  to  Merthyr. 
He  who  supposed  that  her  recent  despair  and 
present  tears  were  for  the  loss  of  her  lover,  gave 
happily  more  comfort  than  he  took.  "  Wlien  old 
gentlemen  choose  to  interest  themselves  about  very 


96  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

young  ladies,"  he  called  upon  his  humourous  philo- 
sophy to  observe  internally,  as  men  do  to  forestal 
the  possible  cynic  external ; — and  the  rest  of  the 
sentence  was  acted  under  his  eyes  by  the  figures  of 
three  persons.  But  there  she  was,  Ij'ing  mtliin  his 
arm,  rescued,  the  creature  whom  he  had  found  filling 
his  heart,  when  lost,  and  whom  he  thought  one  of 
the  most  hopeful  of  the  women  of  earth !  He 
thanked  God  for  bare  facts.  She  lay  against  him 
with  her  eyelids  softly  joined,  and  as  he  felt  the 
breathing  of  her  bodj^  he  marvelled  to  think  how 
matter-of-fact  they  had  both  been  on  the  brink  of 
a  tragedy,  and  how  natural^  she  had,  as  it  were, 
argued  herself  up  to  the  gates  of  death.  For  want 
of  what?  *'My  sister  may  supply  it,^'  thought 
Merthyr. 

"  Oh  !  that  river  is  like  a  great  black  snake  with 
a  sick  eye,  and  7cill  come  round  me  !  "  said  Emilia, 
talking  as  from  sleep ;  then  started,  with  fright  in 
her  face  :  "  Oh,  my  hunger  again  !  " 

"  Hunger  !  "  said  he,  horrified. 

"It  comes  worse  than  ever,"   she  moaned.     "I 
was  half  dead  just  now,  and  didn't  feel  it.     There's 
— there's  no  pain  in  death.     But  this — it's  like  fire 
and  frost !     I  feel  being  eaten  up.     Give  me  some- . 
thing." 


SHE   IS   FOUND.  97 

Merthyr  set  his  teeth  and  enveloped  her  m  a 
tight  hug  that  relieved  her  from  the  sharper  pangs  ; 
and  so  held  her,  the  tears  bursting  through  his  shut 
eyelids,  till  at  the  first  hotel  they  reached  he 
managed  to  get  food  for  her.  She  gave  a  little 
gasping  cry  when  he  put  bread  through  the  window 
of  the  cab.  Bit  by  bit  he  handed  her  the  morsels. 
It  was  impossible  to  procure  broth.  When  they 
drove  on,  she  did  not  complain  of  suffering,  but  her 
chest  rose  and  fell  many  times  heavily.  She  threw 
him  out  in  his  reading  of  her  character,  after  a 
space,  by  excusing  herself  for  having  eaten  with 
such  eagerness ;  and  it  was  long  before  he  learnt 
what  Wilfrid's  tyrannous  sentiment  had  done  to 
this  simple  nature.  He  understood  better  the  fear 
she  expressed  of  meeting  Georgiana.  Nevertheless, 
she  exliibited  none  on  their  entering  the  house,  and 
retm-ned  Georgiana's  embrace  with  what  strength 
was  left  to  her. 


VOL.    III. 


CHAPTEE  VI. 

DEFECTION  OF  MR.  PERICLES  FROM  THE  BROOKFIELD 
CIRCLE. 

Up  the  centre  isle  of  Hillford  Churcli,  the 
Tinlej'S  (late  as  usual)  were  seen  trooping  for 
morning  service  in  mid-winter.  There  was  a  man 
in  the  rear,  known  to  be  a  man  by  the  sound  of  his 
boots  and  measure  of  his  stride,  for  the  ladies  of 
Brookfield,  having  rejected  the  absurd  pretensions 
of  Albert  Tinley,  could  not  permit  curiosity  to 
encounter  the  risk  of  meeting  his  gaze  by  turning 
their  heads.  So,  ^vith  charitable  condescension 
they  returned  the  slight  church  nod  of  prim  Miss 
Tinley  passing,  of  the  detestable  Laura  Tinley, 
of  affected  Eose  Tinley  (whose  complexion  was 
that  of  a  dustbin),  and  of  Madeline  Tinley  (too 
young  for  a  character  beyond  what  the  name 
bestowed),  and  then  they  arranged  their  prayer- 
books,  and  apparently  speculated  as  to  the  pos- 
sible text  that  morning  to  be  given  forth  from 
the  pulpit.     But   it   seemed   to   them   all  that  an 


DEFECTION   OF  MR.    PERICLES.  \)\) 

exceedingl}'  bulky  object  had  passed  as  guardian  of 
the  light-footed   damsels  preceding  him.     Though 
none  of  the  ladies  had  looked  up  as  he  passed,  they 
were  conscious  of   a  stature   and  a  circumference 
which  they  had  deemed  to  be  entirely  beyond  the 
reacli  of  the  Tinleys,  and  a  scornful  notion  of  the 
Tiikleys  having  hired  a  guardsman,  made  Arabella 
smile  at  the  stretch  of  her  contempt,  that  could  help 
her  to  conceive  the  ironic  possibility.     Relieved  of 
the   suspicion    that  Albert    was    in    attendance  on 
his  sisters,  they  let  their  eyes  fall  calmly  on  the 
Tinley   pew.     Could    two  men    upon  this   earthly 
sphere   possess  such  a  bearskin  ?     There  towered 
the   shoulders    of   Mr.    Pericles;  his  head  looking 
diminished  by  the  hugeous  collar.     Arabella  felt  a 
seizure  of  her  hand  from  Adela's  side.     She  placed 
her  book  open  before  her,  and  stared  at  the  pulpit. 
From   neither   of    the   three    of    Brookfield   could 
Laura's    observation    extract   a   sign   of  the  utter 
astonishment  she  knew  they  must  be  experiencing; 
and  had  it  not  been  for  the  ingenuous  broad  whisper 
of  Mrs.  Chump,  which  soimded  towards  the  verge 
even  of  her  conception  of  possibilities,  the   Tinleys 
would  not  have  been  gratified  by  the   first  public 
display   of   the   prize   they   had   wrested  from  the 
Poles. 

a  2 


100  EMILIA   IN   EKGLAI^D. 

"  Mr.  Paricles — oh  !  "  went  Mrs.  Chump,  and  a 
great  man}^  pews  were  set  in  commotion. 

Forthwith  she  bent  towards  Cornelia's  lap,  and 
Cornelia,  surveying  her  placidly,  had  to  murmur, 
"  By  and  by  ;  by  and  by." 

"  But,  did  ye  see  'm,  my  dear  ?  and  a  forr'ner  in  a 
Protestant  Chmxh  !  And  such  a  forr'ner  as  he- is, 
to  be  sure  !  And,  ye  know,  ye  said  he'd  naver  come 
with  you,  and  it's  them  creatures  ye  don't  like. 
Corrnelia !  " 

*'  The  service  commences,"  remarked  that  lady, 
standing  up. 

Many  eyes  were  on  ]\Ir.  Pericles,  who  occasionally 
inspected  the  cornices  and  corbels  and  stained  glass 
to  right  and  left,  or  detected  a  young  lady  staring  at 
him,  or  anticipated  her  going  to  stare,  and  put  her 
to  confusion  by  a  sharp  turn  of  his  head,  and  then 
a  sniff  and  smoothing  down  of  his  moustache. 
But  he  did  not  once  look  at  the  Brookfield  pew. 
By  hazard  his  eye  ranged  over  it,  and  after  the  first 
performance  of  this  trick  he  would  have  found  the 
ladies  a  match  for  him,  even  if  he  had  sought  to 
challenge  their  eyes.  They  were  constrained  to 
admit  that  Laura  Tinley  managed  him  cleverly. 
She  made  him  hold  a  book  and  appear  respectably 
devout.     She  got  him  down  in  good  time  when  seats 


DEFECTION   OF   SIR.    PERICLES.  101 

were  taken,  and  up  again,  without  much  transparent 
persuasion.  The  first  notes  of  the  organ  were  seen 
to  agitate  the  bearskin.  Laura  had  difficulty  to 
induce  the  man  to  rise  for  the  hymn,  and  when  he 
had  listened  to  the  intoning  of  a  verse,  Mr.  Pericles 
suddenly  bent,  as  if  he  had  snapped  in  two ;  nor 
could  Laura  persuade  him  to  rejoin  the  present 
posture  of  the  congregation.  Then  only  did  Laura, 
to  cover  her  failure,  turn  the  subdued  light  of  a 
merry  smile  towards  the  Brookfield  pew.  The  smile 
was  noticed  by  Apprehension  sitting  in  the  comer  of 
one  eye,  and  it  was  likewise  known  that  Laura's 
chagrin  at  finding  that  she  was  not  being  watched 
affected  her  visibly.  At  the  termination  of  the 
sei-mon,  the  ladies  bowed  their  heads  a  short  space, 
and  placing  Mrs.  Chump  in  front  drove  her  out,  so 
that  her  exclamations  of  wonderment,  and  affectedly 
ostentatious  gaspings  of  sympathy  for  Brookfield, 
were  heard  by  few.  On  they  hurried,  straight  and 
fast  to  Brookfield.  Mr.  Pole  was  talking  to  Tracy 
Ptunningbrook  at  the  gate.  The  ladies  cut  short 
his  needless  apology  to  the  young  man  for  not  being 
found  in  church  that  day,  by  asking  two  questions 
of  Tracy,  the  contiguity  of  which,  though  it  was 
peculiar,  they  could  not  avoid.  The  first  related  to 
their  brother's  whereabouts ;  the  second,  to  Emilia's 


102  EMILIA   IN   ENGLA2vT). 

condition.  Tracy  had  no  time  to  reply.  Mrs. 
Chump  had  identified  herself  with  Brookfield  so 
warmly  that  the  defection  of  Mr.  Pericles  was  a  fine 
legitimate  excitement  to  her.  "I  hate'm!"  she 
cried.  "  I  pos'tively  hate  the  man  !  And  he  to  go  to 
church !  A  pretty  figure  for  an  angel — he,  now ! 
But,  my  dears,  we  cann't  let  annybody  else  have  'm. 
Shorrt  of  his  bein'  drowned  or  killed,  we  must  in- 
trigue to  keep  the  wretch  to  ourselves." 

'^Oh,  clear/''  said  Adela,  impatiently. 

*'  Well,  and  I  didn't  say  to  ?7i?/self,  ye  little  jealous 
thing  !  "  retorted  ]\Irs.  Chump. 

"  Indeed,  ma'am,  you  are  welcome  to  him." 

"  And  indeed,  miss,  I  don't  want  'm.  And, 
perhaps,  ye  were  flirtin'  all  the  fun  out  of  him 
on  board  the  yacht,  and  got  tired  of  \n ;  and  that's 
why." 

Adela  said :  "  Thank  you,"  with  exasperating 
sedateness,  which  x^io'^'ctked  an  intemperate  out- 
burst from  Mrs.  Chump.  "  Sunday  !  Sunday  !  " 
cried  Mr.  Pole. 

"Ain't  I  the  first  to  remember  ut,  Pole  ?  And 
didn't  I  get  up  airly  so  as  to  go  to  church  and  have 
my  conscience  qui't,  and  'stead  o'  that  I  come  out 
full  of  evil  passions,  all  for  the  sake  o'  these  un- 
grateful garls  that's  always  where  ye  cann't  find  'em. 


DEFECTION   OF   MR.    PERICLES.  103 

Why,  if  they  was  to  be  married  at  the  altar,  they'd 
stare  and  be  'ffendud  if  ye  asked  them  if  they  was 
thinking  of  their  husbands,  they  would !  '  Oh, 
dear,  no !  and  ye're  mistaken,  and  we're  thinkin'  o' 
the  coal-scuttle  in  the  back  parlour,' — or  somethin' 
about  souls,  if  not  coals.  There's  theii'  answer. 
AMiat  did  ye  do  with  ^Ir.  Paricles  on  board  the 
yacht  ?     Aha !  " 

"  AVhat's  this  about  Pericles  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pole. 

"  Oh,  nothing,  papa,"  returned  Adela. 

"  Nothing,  do  ye  call  ut  I "  said  Mrs.  Chump. 
"  And,  mayhap,  good  cause  too.  Didn't  ye  tease  'm, 
now,  on  board  the  yacht  ?  Xow,  did  he  go  on 
board  the  yacht  at  all  ?  " 

"  I  should  think  you  ought  to  know  that  as  well 
as  Adela,"  said  Mr.  Pole. 

Adela  interposed,  hurriedly :  "  All  this,  my  dear 
papa,  is  because  Mr.  Pericles  has  thought  proper 
to  visit  the  Tinleys'  pew.  Who  would  complain 
how  or  where  he  does  it,  so  long  as  the  duty  is 
fulfiUed  ?  ■' 

Mr.  Pole  stared,  muttering  :  "  The  Tinleys  !  " 

"  She's  botherin'  of  ye,  Pole,  the  puss  ! "  said 
Mrs.  Chump,  certain  that  she  had  hit  a  weak  point 
in  that  mention  of  the  yacht.  "  Ask  her  what  sorrt 
of  behaviour " 


104  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

"  And  he  didn't  speak  to  any  of  j'ou  ? "  said 
Mr.  Pole. 

"  No,  papa." 

"  He  looked  the  other  wa}'  ?  " 

"  He  did  us  that  honour." 

"  Ask  her,  Pole,  how  she  behaved  to  'm  on  board 
the  yacht,"  cried  Mrs.  Chump.  "  Oh  !  there  was 
flu'tin',  flu-tin' !  And  go  and  see  what  the  noble 
j)oat  says  of  tying  up  in  sacks  and  plumpin'  of 
poor  bodies  of  women  into  forty  fathoms  by  them 
Turks  and  Greeks,  all  because  of  jea^S3^  So, 
they  make  a  woman  in  earnest  there,  the  A^Tetches, 
'cause  she  cann't  have  anny  of  her  jokes.  Didn't  ye 
tease  Mr.  Paricles  on  board  the  yacht,  Ad'la  ? 
Now,  was  he  there  ?  " 

*'  Martha  !  you're  a  fool !  "  said  Mr.  Pole,  looking 
the  victim  of  one  of  his  fits  of  agitation.  "Who 
knows  whether  he  was  there  better  than  you  ? 
You'll  be  forgetting  soon  that  we've  ever  dined 
together.  I  hate  to  see  a  woman  so  absurd ! 
There — never  mind !  Go  in  :  take  off  bonnet — 
something — anything  !  only  I  can't  bear  folly  !  Eh, 
Mr.  Eunningbrook  ?  " 

"  'Deed,  Pole,  and  ye're  mad."  Mrs.  Chump 
crossed  her  hands  to  reply  with  full  repose.  "  I'd 
like  to  know  how  I'm  to  know  what  I  naver  said." 


DEFECTION   OF   MR.    FErJCLES.  105 

The  scene  was  growing  critical.  Adela  consulted 
the  eyes  of  her  sisters,  which  plainly  said  that  this 
was  her  peculiar  scrape.  Adela  ended  it  hy  going 
up  to  Mrs.  Chump,  taking  her  by  the  shoulders, 
and  putting  a  kiss  upon  her  forehead.  "  Now  3'ou 
will  see  better,"  she  said.  "  Don't  you  know  Mr. 
Pericles  was  not  with  us  ?  As  surely  as  he  2cas 
with  the  Tinleys  this  morning  !  " 

"And  a  nice  morning  it  is  ! "  ejaculated  Mr.  Pole, 
trotting  off  hm'riedly. 

"  Does  Pole  think "  !Mrs.  Chump  murmured, 

with  reference  to  her  voyaging  on  the  j^acht.  The 
kiss  had  bewildered  her  sequent  sensations. 

"  He  does  think,  and  will  think,  and  must  think," 
Adela  prattled  some  persuasive  infantine  nonsense : 
her  soul  all  the  while  in  revolt  against  her  sisters, 
who  left  her  the  work  to  do,  and  took  the  position 
of  spectators  and  critics,  condemning  an  effort  they 
had  not  courage  to  attempt. 

"  By  the  way,  I  have  to  congratulate  a  friend  of 
mine,"  said  Tracy,  selecting  Adela  for  an  ironical 
bow. 

"  Then  it  is  Ca^^tain  Gambler,"  cried  Mrs.  Chump, 
as  if  a  whole  revelation  had  burst  on  her.  Adela 
blushed.  "  Oh !  and  what  was  that  I  heai'd  ? " 
continued  the  aggravating  woman. 


106  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAjND. 

Adela  flashed  lier  eyes  round  on  her  sisters. 
Even  then  they  left  her  without  aid,  their  feeling 
being  that  she  had  debased  the  house  by  her 
familiarity  with  this  woman  before  Tracy. 

"  Stay  !    didn't   ye   both "  Mrs.   Chump  was 

saying. 

"  Yes  ?  " — Adela  passed  by  her — "  only  in  your 
ears  alone,  you  know  !  "  At  which  hint  Mrs.  Chump 
gleefully  turned  and  followed  her.  A  rumour  was 
prevalent  of  some  misadventure  to  Adela  and  the 
Captain  on  board  the  yacht.  Arabella  saw  her 
depart,  thinking,  "  How  singular  is  her  propensity 
to  imitate  me  ! "  for  the  ajffirmative  uttered  in  the 
tone  of  interrogation  was  quite  Arabella's  own ;  as 
also  occasionally  the  negative, — the  negative,  how- 
ever, suiting  the  musical  indifference  of  the  sound, 
and  its  implied  calm  breast. 

"As  for  Pericles,"  said  Trac}^  "you  need  not 
wonder  that  the  fellow  prays  in  other  pews  than 
yours.  By  Heaven !  he  may  pray  and  pray :  I'd 
send  him  to  Hades  with  an  epigram  in  his  heart ! " 

From  Tracy  the  ladies  learnt  that  Wilfrid  had 
inflicted  public  chastisement  upon  Mr.  Pericles  for 
saying  a  false  thing  of  Emilia.  "  He  danced  the 
prettiest  _29as  seul  that  was  ever  footed  by  debutant  on 
the  hot  iron  plates  of  Purgatory."     They  dared  not 


DEFECTION   OF   MR.    PERICLES.  107 

ask  Avliat  it  was  that  Mr.  Pericles  had  said,  but  Tracy 
was  so  vehement  on  the  subject  of  his  having  met 
his  deserts,  that  they  partly  guessed  it  to  bear  some 
relation  to  their  sex's  defencelessness,  and  they 
approved  their  brother's  work. 

Su'  Twickenham  and  Captain  Gambier  dined  at 
Brookfield  that  da3\  However  astonishing  it  might 
be  to  one  who  knew  his  character  and  triumphs,  the 
Captain  was  a  butterfly  netted,  and  was  on  the  high 
road  to  an  exhibition  of  himself  with  his  wings  out- 
spread. During  the  service  of  the  table  Tracy 
relieved  Adela  from  Mrs.  Chump's  inadvertencies 
and  httle  bits  of  feminine  malice,  but  he  could  not 
help  the  Captain,  who  blundered  like  a  schoolboy 
in  her  rough  hands.  It  w^as  noted  that  Sir  Twick- 
enham reserved  the  tolerating  smile  he  once  had 
for  her.  Mr.  Pole's  nervous  fretfulness  had  in- 
creased. He  complained  in  occasional  under- 
breaths,  correcting  himself  immediately  with  a 
"  No,  no  !  "   and  blinking  briskly. 

But  after  dinner  came  the  time  when  the  pain- 
fullest  scene  was  daily  enacted.  Mrs.  Chump 
drank  port  freely.  To  drink  it  fondly  it  was  neces- 
sary that  she  should  have  another  rosy  wineglass  to 
nod  to,  and  Mr.  Pole,  whose  taste  for  wine  had  been 
weakened,  took  this  post  as  his  duty,  notwithstand- 


108  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

ing.  The  watchful,  pmched  features  of  the  poor 
pale  little  man  bloomed  unnaturall}^  and  his  unin- 
telligible eyes  sparkled  as  he  emptied  his  glass. 
His  daughters  knew  that  he  drank,  not  for  his 
pleasure,  but  for  their  benefit ;  that  he  might  sus- 
tain Martha  Chump  in  the  delusion  that  he  was  a 
fitting  bridegroom,  and  with  her  money  save  them 
from  ruin.  Each  evening,  with  remorse  that  blotted  all 
perception  of  the  tragic  comicality  of  the  show,  they 
saw  him,  in  liis  false  strength  and  his  anxiety  con- 
cerning his  pulse's  pla}^  act  this  part.  The  recur- 
ring words,  "Now,  INIartha,  here's  the  port,"  sent  a 
cold  wave  through  their  blood.  They  knoAv  what 
the  doctor  remarked  on  the  effect  of  that  port. 
"  111 !  "  Mrs.  Chump  would  cry,  when  she  saw  him 
wink  after  sipping ;  "  you,  Pole  !  what  do  they  say 
of  ye,  ye  deer ! "  and  she  returned  the  wink ;  the 
ladies  looking  on.  Not  to  drink  a  proper  quantum 
of  port,  when  port  was  on  the  table,  was,  in  Mrs. 
Chump's  eyes,  mean  for  a  man.  Even  Chump, 
she  would  say,  was  master  of  his  bottle,  and 
thought  nothing  of  it.  "  AYho  does  ?  "  cried  her 
present  suitor,  and  the  port  ebbed,  and  his  cheeks 
grew  crimson.  This  frightful  rivalry  with  the  ghost 
of  Alderman  Chump  continued  night  after  night. 
The  rapturous  Martha  was  incapable  of  observing 


DEFECTION   OF   MR.    PERICLES.  109 

that  if  slie  drank  with  a  ghost  in  memory,  in  reality- 
she  drank  with  nothing  better  than  an  animated 
puppet.  The  nights  ended  with  Mr.  Pole  either 
sleejiing  in  his  arm-chair  (upon  which  occasions  one 
daughter  watched  him  and  told  dreadful  tales  of  his 
w^aking),  or  staggering  to  bed,  debating  on  tlie  stau'S 
between  tea  and  brand}-,  complaining  of  a  loss  of 
sensation  at  his  knee-cap,  or  elbow,  or  else  rubbing 
his  head  and  laughing  hysterically.  His  bride  was 
not  at  such  moments  observant.  No  wonder  Wil- 
frid kept  out  of  the  wa}^  if  he  had  not  better 
occupation  elsewhere.  The  ladies,  in  their  utter 
anguish,  after  inveighing  against  the  baneful  port, 
had  begged  their  father  to  delay  no  more  to  marry 
the  woman.  ^'  Why  ?  "  said  IMr.  Pole,  sharply  ; 
"what  do  3'ou  want  me  to  marry  her  for?  "  The}^ 
were  obliged  to  keep  up  the  delusion,  and  said, 
"  Because  she  seems  suited  to  you  as  a  com- 
panion." That  satisfied  him.  "  Oh  !  we  wont  be 
in  a  hurry,"  he  said,  and  named  a  day  within  a 
month ;  and  not  hkmg  their  unready  faces,  laughed, 
and  dismissed  the  idea  aloud,  as  if  he  had  not 
earnestly  been  entertaining  it. 

The  ladies  of  Brookfield  held  no  more  their 
happy,  energetic  midnight  consultations.  They  had 
begun  to  crave  for  sleep  and  a  snatch  of  forgetful- 


110  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAJST). 

ness,  tlie  scourge  being  daily  on  their  flesh:  and 
they  had  now  no  plans  to  discuss  ;  they  had  no 
distant  horizon  of  low  vague  lights  that  used  ever  to 
be  beyond  their  morrow.  They  kissed  at  the  bed- 
room door  of  one,  and  separated.  Silence  was  their 
only  protection  to  the  Nice  Feelings,  now  that 
Fine  Shades  had  become  impossible.  Adela  had 
almost  made  herself  distinct  from  her  sisters  since 
the  j^achting  expedition.  She  had  grown  severely 
careful  of  the  keys  of  her  writing-desk,  and  would 
sometimes  slip  the  bolt  of  her  bedroom  door,  and 
answer  "  Eh?  "  dubiously  in  tone,  when  her  sisters 
had  knocked  twice,  and  had  said  "  Open  "  once.  The 
house  of  Brookfield  showed  those  divisional  rents 
wliich  an  admonitory  quaking  of  the  earth  will 
create.  Neither  sister  was  satisfied  with  the  other. 
Cornelia's  treatment  of  Sir  Twickenham  was  almost 
openly  condemned,  but  at  the  same  time  it  seemed 
to  Arabella  that  the  baronet  was  receiving  more 
than  the  necessary  amount  of  consolation  from  the 
bride  of  Captain  Gambler,  and  that  yacht  habits 
and  moralities  had  been  recently  imported  to 
Brookfield.  Adela,  for  her  part,  looked  sadly  on 
Arabella,  and  longed  to  tell  her,  as  she  told  Corneha, 
that  if  she  continued  to  play  Freshfield  Sumner  pur- 
posely against  Edward  Buxley,  she  might  lose  both. 


DEFECTION   OF  5IK.    PERICLES.  Ill 

Cornelia  quietly  measured  accusations  and  judged 
impartially;  her  mind  being  too  fuU  to  bring  any 
personal  observation  to  bear.  She  said,  perhaps, 
less  than  she  would  have  said,  had  she  not  known 
that  hourly  her  own  Nice  Feelings  had  to  put  up 
a  petition  for  Fine  Shades  :  had  she  not  known,  in- 
deed, that  her  conduct  would  soon  demand  from  her 
sisters  an  absolutely  merciful  interpretation.  For 
she  was  now  simply  attracting  Sir  Twickenham  to 
Brookfield  as  a  necessary  medicine  to  her  papa. 
Since  Mrs.  Chump's  return,  however,  Mr.  Pole  had 
spoken  cheerfully  of  himself,  and,  by  inuendo  em- 
phasised, had  imparted  that  his  mercantile  pros- 
pects were  brighter.  In  fact,  Cornelia  half  thought 
that  he  must  have  been  pretending  bankruptc}-  to 
gain  his  end  in  getting  the  consent  of  his  daughters 
to  receive  the  woman.  She,  and  Adela  likewise, 
began  to  suspect  that  the  parental  transparency  was 
a  little  mysterious,  and  that  there  is,  after  all,  more 
than  we  see  in  something  that  we  see  through. 
They  were  now  in  danper  of  supposing  that  because 
the  old  man  had  possibly  deceived  them  to  some 
extent,  he  had  deceived  them  altogether.  But  was 
not  the  after-dinner  scene  too  horribly  true  ?  Were 
not  his  hands  moist  and  cold  while  the  forehead 
was  crimson  ?     And  could  a  human  creature  feel  at 


112  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

his  own  pulse,  and  look  into  vacancy  with  that  in- 
tense, apprehensive  look,  and  he  but  an  actor  ? 
They  could  not  think  so.  But  his  conditions  being- 
dependent  upon  them,  the  ladies  felt  in  their  hearts 
a  spring  of  absolute  rebellion  when  the  call  for  fresh 
sacrifices  came.  Though  they  did  not  grasp  the 
image,  they  had  a  feeling  that  he  was  nourished  bit 
by  bit  by  everj^thing  they  held  dear ;  and  though 
they  loved  him,  and  were  generous,  they  had  begun 
to  ask,  "  What  next  ?  " 

The  ladies  were  at  a  dead  lock,  and  that  the 
heart  is  the  father  of  our  histories,  I  am  led  to 
think  when  I  look  abroad  on  families  stagnant 
because  of  so  weak  a  motion  of  the  heart.  There 
are  those  w^ho  have  none  at  all ;  the  mass  of  us  are 
moved  from  the  joropulsion  of  the  toes  of  the  Fates. 
But  the  ladies  of  Brookfield  had  hearts  lively 
enough  to  get  them  into  scrapes.  The  getting  out 
of  them,  or  getting  on  at  all,  was  left  to  Providence. 
They  were  at  a  dead-lock,  for  Arabella,  flattered  as 
she  was  by  Freshfield  Sumner's  woomg,  could  not 
openly  throw  Edward  over,  whom  mdeed  she  thought 
that  she  liked  the  better  of  the  two,  though  his 
letters  had  not  so  wide  an  intellectual  range.  Her 
father  was  irritably  anxious  that  she  should  close 
with  Edward.     Adela  could  not  move  :  at  least,  not 


DEFECTION   OF   MR.    PERICLES.  113 

openl}'.  Cornelia  might  have  taken  an  initiative  ; 
but  tenderness  for  lier  father^s  health  had  hitherto 
restrained  her,  and  she  temporized  with  Sir  Twick- 
enham on  the  noblest  of  principles.  She  was,  by 
the  devotion  of  her  conduct,  enabled  to  excuse  her- 
self so  far  that  she  could  even  fish  up  an  excuse 
in  the  shape  of  the  effort  she  had  made  to  find  him 
entertaining :  as  if  the  said  efi'ort  should  really  be 
repayment  enough  to  him  for  his  assiduous  and 
most  futile  suit.  One  deep  giief  sat  on  Cornelia's 
mind.  She  had  heard  from  Lady  Gosstre  that 
there  was  something  like  madness  in  the  Barrett 
family.  She  had  consented  to  meet  Sir  Purcell 
clandestinely  (after  deep  debate  on  his  claim  to  such 
a  sacrifice  on  her  part),  and  if,  on  those  occasions, 
her  lover's  tone  was  raised,  it  gave  her  a  tremor. 
And  he  had  of  late  appeared  to  lose  his  noble  calm ; 
he  had  spoken  (it  might  almost  be  interpreted)  as  if 
he  doubted  her.  Once,  when  she  had  mentioned 
her  care  for  her  father,  he  had  cried  out  upon  the 
name  of  father  with  violence,  looking  unlike  him- 
self. 

His  condemnation  of  the  world,  too,  was  not  so 
Christian  as  it  had  been ;  it  betrayed  what  the  vulgar 
would  call  spite,  and  was  not  all  compassed  in  his 
peculiar   smooth   shrug — expressive   of    a    sort   of 

VOL.    III.  I 


114  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND. 

border-land  between  contempt  and  charity:  whicli 
had  made  him  wear  in  her  sight  all  the  superiority 
which  the  former  implies,  with  a  considerable  share 
of  the  benign  complacency  of  the  latter.  This  had 
gone.  He  had  been  sarcastic  even  to  her ;  sa}Tiig 
once,  and  harshly:  "Have  you  a  Will?''  Per- 
sonall}"  she  liked  the  poor  organist  better  than  the 
poor  baronet,  though  he  had  less  merit.  It  was 
unpleasant  in  her  present  mood  to  be  told  "  that  we 
have  come  into  this  life  to  fashion  for  ourselves 
souls;"  and  that  "w^hosoever  cannot  decide  is  a 
soulless  wretch  fit  but  to  pass  into  vapour."  He 
appeared  to  have  ceased  to  make  his  generous 
allowances  for  difficult  situations.  A  senseless 
notion  struck  Cornelia,  that  with  the  baronetcy  he 
had  perhaps  inherited  some  of  the  madness  of  his 
father. 

The  two  were  in  a  dramatic  tangle  of  the  Nice 
Feelings :  worth  a  glance  as  we  pass  on.  She 
wished  to  say  to  him,  "  You  are  unjust  to  my 
perplexities;"  and  he  to  her,  '^  You  fail  in  your 
dilemma  through  cowardice."  Instead  of  uttering 
which,  they  chid  themselves  severally  for  enter- 
taining such  coarse  ideas  of  their  idol.  Doubtless 
they  were  silent  from  consideration  for  one  another : 
but  I  must  add,  out  of  extreme  tenderness  for  them- 


DEFECTION   OF   MR.    PERICLES.  115 

selves  likewise.  There  ai-e  people  who  can  keej) 
the  facts  that  front  them  absent  from  their  contem- 
plation by  not  framing  them  in  speech ;  and  much 
benevolence  of  the  passive  order  may  be  traced  to 
a  disinclination  to  inflict  pain  upon  oneself.  "  My 
duty  to  my  father,"  being  cited  by  Cornelia,  Sir 
Purcell  had  to  contend  with  it. 
'  "  True  love  excludes  no  natural  duty,"  she  said. 

And  he  :  "  Love  discerns  unerringly  what  is  and 
what  is  not  duty." 

"In  the  case  of  a  father,  can  there  be  any  doubt  ?" 
she  asked,  the  answer  shining  in  her  confident  aspect. 

"  There  are  many  things  that  fathers  may  de- 
mand of  us  !  "  he  interjected  bitterly. 

She  had  a  fatal  glimpse  here  of  the  false  light  in 
which  his  resentment  coloured  the  relations  between 
fathers  and  children;  and,  deeming  him  incapable 
of  conducting  this  argument,  she  felt  quite  safe  in 
her  opposition,  up  to  a  point  where  feeling  stopped 
her. 

"Devotedness  to  a  father  I  must  conceive  to  be 
a  child's  first  duty,"  she  said. 

Sir  Purcell  nodded  :  "  Yes ;  a  child's  !  " 

"Does  not  history  give  the  higher  praise  to 
children  who  sacrifice  themselves  for  their  parents  ?  " 
asked  Cornelia. 


116  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

And  he  replied  :  "  So,  you  seek  to  be  fortified  in 
such  matters  by  history  !  " 

Courteous  sneers  silenced  her.  Feeling  told 
her  she  was  in  the  wrong ;  but  the  beauty  of  her 
sentiment  was  not  to  be  contested,  and  therefore 
she  thought  that  she  might  distrust  feeling:  and 
she  went  against  it  somewhat ;  at  first  very  ten- 
tatively, for  it  caused  pain.  She  marked  a  line 
where  the  light  of  dutj^  should  not  encroach  on  the 
Hght  of  our  human  desires.  "  But  love  for  a 
parent  is  not  merely  duty,"  thought  Cornelia.  "  It 
is  also  love ; — and  is  it  not  the  least  selfish  love  ?  " 

Step  by  step  Sir  Purcell  watched  the  clouding 
of  her  mind  with  false  conceits,  and  knew  it  to  be 
owing  to  the  heart's  want  of  vigour.  Again  and 
again  he  was  tempted  to  lay  an  irreverent  hand  on 
the  veil  his  lady  walked  in,  and  make  her  bare  to 
herself.  Partly  in  simple  bitterness,  he  refrained  : 
but  the  chief  reason  was  that  he  had  no  comfort  in 
giving  a  shock  to  his  own  state  of  deception.  He 
would  have  had  to  open  a  dark  closet ;  to  disen- 
tangle and  bring  to  light  what  lay  in  an  undis- 
tinguishable  heap ;  to  disfigure  her  to  herself,  and 
share  in  her  changed  eyesight ;  possibl}^  to  be,  or 
seem,  coarse:  so  he  kept  the  door  of  it  locked, 
admitting  sadly  in  his   meditation  that  there  was 


DEFECTION   OF   3IR.    PERICLES.  117 

such  a  place,  and  saying  all  the  while  :  "  If  I 
were  not  poor  !  "  He  saw  her  running  into  the 
shelter  of  egregious  sophisms,  till  it  became  an 
effort  to  him  to  preserve  his  reverence  for  her  and 
the  sex  she  represented.  Finally  he  imagined  that 
he  perceived  an  idea  coming  to  growth  in  her,  no 
other  than  this  :  "  That  in  duty  to  her  father,  she 
might  sacrifice  herself,  though  still  loving  him  to 
whom  she  had  given  her  heart ;  thus  ennobling  her 
love  for  father  and  for  lover."  With  a  wicked 
ingenuity  he  tracked  her  forming  notions,  en- 
couraged them  on,  and  i^rovoked  her  enthusiasm 
by  putting  an  ironical  question :  "  Whether  the 
character  of  the  soul  was  subdued  and  shaped 
by  the  endurance  and  the  destiny  of  the  perish- 
able ?  " 

"  Oh  !  no,  no  !  "  she  exclaimed.     "  It  cannot  be, 
or  what  comfort  should  we  have  ?  " 

Few  men  knew  better  that  when  lovers'  senti- 
ments stray  away  from  feeling,  they  are  to  be  sus- 
pected of  a  disloyalty.  Yet  he  admii'ed  the  tone 
she  took.  He  had  got  an  '  ideal '  of  her  which  it 
was  pleasanter  to  magnify  than  to  distort.  An 
*  ideal' is  so  arbitrary  that,  if  you  only  doubt  of 
its  being  perfection,  it  will  vanish  and  never 
come  again.      Sir   PurceU  refused  to  doubt.      He 


118  EMILIA   IN   EXGLAND. 

blamed  himself  for  having  thought  it  possible 
to  doubt,  and  this,  when  all  the  time  he 
knew. 

Through  endless  labjTinths  of  delusion  these  two 
imhappy  creatures  might  be  traced,  were  it  profit- 
able. Down  what  a  vale  of  little  intricate  follies 
should  we  be  going,  lighted  by  one  ghastly  con- 
clusion !  At  times,  struggling  from  the  midst 
of  her  sophisms,  Cornelia  -prajed  her  lover  would 
claim  her  openly,  and  so  nerve  her  to  a  pitch  of 
energy  that  would  clinch  the  ruinous  debate. 
Forgetting  that  she  was  an  '  ideal ' — the  accredited 
mistress  of  pure  wisdom  and  of  the  power  of 
deciding  rightly — she  prayed  to  be  dealt  with  as  a 
thoughtless  person,  and  one  of  the  herd  of  women. 
She  felt  that  Sir  Pm^ell  threw  too  much  on  her. 
He  expected  her  to  go  calmly  to  her  father,  and  to 
Sir  Twickenham,  and  tell  them  individually  that 
her  heart  was  engaged ;  then  with  a  stately  figure 
to  turn,  quit  the  house,  and  lay  her  hand  in  his. 
He  made  no  allowance  for  the  weakness  of  her  sex, 
for  the  difficulties  surrounding  her,  for  the  con- 
sideration due  to  Sir  Twickenham's  pride,  and  to 
her  father's  ill-health.  She  half- pro  tested  to  herself 
that  he  expected  from  her  the  mechanical  correct- 
ness of  a  machine,  and  overlooked  the  fact  that  she 


DEFECTION   OF   ME.    PERICLES.  119 

was   human.      It   was    a    grave    comment   on   her 
ambition  to  be  an  'ideal.' 

So  let  us  leave  them,  till  we  come  upon  the 
ashy  fruit  of  which  this  blooming  sentimenta.lism 
is  seed. 

It  was  past  midnight  when  Mrs.  Chump  rushed 
to  Arabella's  room,  and  her  knock  was  heard  vocife- 
rous at  the  door.  The  ladies,  who  were  at  work  upon 
diaries  and  letters,  allowed  her  to  thump  and  wonder 
whether  she  had  come  to  the  wrong  door,  for  a 
certain  period ;  after  which,  Arabella  placidly- 
unbolted  her  chamber,  and  Adela  presented  her- 
self in  the  passage  to  know  the  meaning  of  the 
noise. 

"  Oh !  ye  poor  darlin's,  I've  heard  ut  aU,  I 
have." 

This  commencement  took  the  colour  from  their 
cheeks.  Arabella  invited  her  inside,  and  sent  Adela 
for  Cornelia. 

"  Oil,  and  ye  poor  clecrs  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Chump  to 
Ai'abeUa,  who  remarked :  "  Pray  wait  till  my  sisters 
come  ;  "  causing  the  woman  to  stare  and  observe :  "  If 
ye're  not  as  cold  as  the  bottom  of  a  pot  that  naver 
felt  fire."  She  repeated  this  to  Cornelia  and  Adela  as 
an  accusation,  and  then  burst  on  :  "  My  heart's  just 


120  EMILLi   ESf   ENGLAND. 

brealdn'  for  ye,  and  ye  shall  naver  want  bread,  eh ! 
and  roast  beef,  and  my  last  bottle  of  port  yell  share, 
though  ye've  no  ideea  what  a  lot  o'  thoughts  o'  poor 
Chump's  under  that  cork,  and  it  '11  be  a  waste  on 
you.  Oh !  and  that  monster  of  a  Mr.  Paricles 
that's  got  ye  in  his  power  and's  goin'  to  be  the 
rroon  of  ye — shame  to  'm !  Your  father's  told  me  ; 
and,  oh !  my  darlin'  garls,  don^t  think  ut  my  fault, 
For,  Pole— Pole^ " 

Mrs.  Chump  was  choked  by  her  grief.  The  ladies, 
unbending  to  some  cui'iosity,  eliminated  from  her 
gasps  and  sobs  that  Mr.  Pole  had,  in  the  solitude  of 
his  library  below,  accused  her  of  causing  the  defection 
of  Mr.  Pericles,  and  traced  his  possible  ruin  to  it, 
confessing  that,  in  the  way  of  business,  he  was  at 
Mr.  Pericles'  mercy. 

"  And  in  such  a  passion  with  me  !"  Mrs.  Chump 
wrung  her  hands.  "  What  could  I  do  to  jNlr. 
Paricles  ?  He  isn't  one  o'  the  men  that  I  can  kiss  ; 
and  Pole  shouldn't  wish  me.  And  Pole  settin'  down 
his  rroon  to  me  !  What  11  I  do  ?  J\ly  dears  !  I  do 
feel  for  ye,  for  I  feel  I'd  feel  myself  such  a  beast, 
without  money,  d'ye  see  ?  It's  the  most  horrible 
thing  in  the  world.  It's  like  no  candle  in  the  darrk. 
And  I,  ye  know,  I  know^  I'd  naver  forgive  annybody 
that  took  my  money  ;  and  what  '11  Pole  think  of  me  ? 


DEFECTION   OF   MR.    PERICLES.  121 

For  oh  !  ye  may  call  riches  temptation,  but  poverty's 
piuiishment ;  and  I  heard  a  young  curate  say  that 
from  a  puli)it,  and  he  was  lean  enough  to  know, 
poor  fella  !  " 

Both  Corneha  and  Arabella  breathed  more  freely 
when  they  had  heard  Mrs.  Chump's  tale  to  an  end. 
They  knew  perfectly  well  that  she  was  blameless  for 
the  defection  of  Mr.  Pericles,  and  understood  from  her 
exclamatory  narrative  that  their  father  had  reason  to 
feel  some  grave  alarm  at  the  Greek's  absence  from 
their  house,  and  had  possibly  reasons  of  his  own  for 
accusing  Mrs.  Chump,  as  he  had  done.  The  ladies 
administered  consolation  to  her,  telling  her  that  for 
theii'  paiii  they  would  never  blame  her ;  even  consent- 
ing to  be  kissed  by  her,  hugged  by  her,  playfully 
patted,  comphmented,  and  again  wept  over.  They 
little  knew  what  a  fervour  of  secret  devotion  they 
created  in  Mrs.  Chump's  bosom  by  this  astounding 
magnanimity  displayed  to  her,  who  laboured  under 
the  charge  of  being  the  source  of  their  ruin;  nor 
could  they  guess  that  the  little  hypocrisy  they  were 
practising  would  lead  to  any  singular  and  pregnant 
resolution  in  the  mind  of  the  woman,  fraught  with 
explosion  to  their  house,  and  that  quick  movement 
which  they  awaited. 

Mrs.  Chump,  during  the  patient  strain  of  a  tender 


123  ,  E3IILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

hug  of  Arabella,  had  mutely  resolved  in  a  great  heat 
of  gratitude  that  she  would  go  to  Mr.  Pericles,  and, 
since  he  was  necessary  to  the  well-being  of  Brook- 
field,  bring  him  back,  if  she  had  to  bring  him  back 
in  her  arms. 


CHAPTEE  YII. 

IN    WHICH   WE    SEE    WILFEID    KINDLING. 

Georgiana  Ford  to  Wilfrid. 

"  I  HAVE  omitted  replying  to  your  first  letter,  not 
because  of  the  nature  of  its  contents :  nor  do  I 
write  now  in  answer  to  your  second  because  of  the 
permission  you  give  me  to  lay  it  before  my  brother. 
I  cannot  think  that  concealment  is  good,  save  for 
very  base  persons  ;  and  since  you  take  the  initiative 
in  wiiting  very  openly,  I  will  do  so  likewise. 

"  It  is  true  that  Emilia  is  with  me.  Her  voice  is 
lost,  and  she  has  fallen  as  low  in  spirit  as  one  can 
faU  and  still  give  us  hope  of  her  recovery.  But 
that  hope  I  have,  and  I  am  confident  that  you  will 
not  destroy  it.  In  the  summer  she  goes  with  us  to 
Italy.  "We  have  consulted  one  doctor,  who  did  not 
prescribe  medicine  for  her.  In  the  morning  she 
reads  with  my  brother.  She  seems  to  forget  what- 
ever she  reads  :  the  occupation  is  everything  neces- 
sary just  now.  Our  sharp  jMonmouth  air  provokes 
her  to  walk  briskly  when  she  is  out,  and  the  exercise 


124  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

has  once  or  twice  given  colour  to  lier  clieeks. 
Yesterday  being  a  day  of  clear  frost,  we  drove  to 
a  point  from  which  we  could  mount  the  Buckstone, 
and  here,  my  brother  says,  the  view  appeared  to 
give  her  something  of  her  lost  animation.  It  was 
a  look  that  I  had  never  seen,  and  it  soon  went :  but 
in  the  evening  she  asked  me  whether  I  prayed 
before  sleeping,  and  when  she  retired  to  her  bed- 
room, I  remained  there  with  her  for  a  time. 

"  You  will  pardon  me  for  refusing  to  let  her  know 
that  you  have  written  to  your  relative  in  the  Aus- 
trian service  to  obtain  a  commission  for  you.  But, 
on  the  other  hand,  I  have  thought  it  right  to  tell 
her  incidentally  that  you  will  be  married  in  the 
summer  of  this  year.  I  can  only  say  that  she 
listened  quite  calmly. 

"  I  beg  that  you  will  not  blame  yourself  so  vehe- 
mently. By  what  you  do,  her  friends  may  learn  to 
know  that  you  regret  the  strange  effect  produced 
by  certain  careless  words,  or  conduct :  but  I  cannot 
find  that  self-accusation  is  ever  good  at  all.  In 
answer  to  your  question,  I  may  add  that  she  has 
repeated  nothing  of  what  she  said  when  we  were 
together  in  Devon. 

"  Our  chief  desire  (for,  as  we  love  her,  we  may  be 
directed  by  our  instinct),  in  the  attempt  to  restore 


m   WHICH   WE    SEE   WILFRID    KiyDLIXG.  125 

her,  is  to  make  lier  understand  tliat  she  is  anj^thing 
but  worthless.  She  has  recently  followed  my 
brother's  lead,  and  spoken  of  herself,  but  with  a 
touch  of  scorn.  This  morning,  while  the  clear  frosty 
sky  continues,  we  were  to  have  started  for  an  old 
castle  l3'ing  towards  AVales ;  and  I  think  tlie  idea  of 
a  castle  must  have  struck  her  imagination,  and 
forced  some  internal  contrast  on  her  mind.  I  am 
repeating  my  brother's  suggestion  —  she  seemed 
more  than  usually  impressed  with  an  idea  that  she 
was  of  no  value  to  an3'body.  She  asked  why  she 
should  go  anywhere,  and  dropped  into  a  chair, 
begging  to  be  allowed  to  stay  in  a  darkened  room. 
My  brother  has  some  strange  intuition  of  her  state 
of  mind.  She  has  lost  any  j^ower  she  may  have 
had  of  grasping  abstract  ideas.  In  what  I  conceived 
to  be  play,  he  told  her  that  many  would  buy  her 
even  now.  She  appeared  to  be  speculating  on 
this,  and  then  wished  to  know  how  much  those 
persons  would  consider  her  to  be  worth,  and  who 
they  were.  Nor  did  it  raise  a  smile  on  her  face 
to  hear  my  brother  mention  Jews,  and  name  an 
absolute  sum  of  money ;  but,  on  the  contrary, 
after  evidently  thinking  over  it,  she  rose  up,  and 
said  that  she  was  ready  to  go.  I  write  fully  to 
you,  telling  you    these  things,  that   you  may   see 


126  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND. 

she  is  at  any  rate  eager  not  to  despaii%  and  is 
learning,  much  as  a  child  might  learn  it,  that  it 
need  not  be. 

"  Believe  me,  that  I  will  in  every  way  help  to 
dispossess  your  mind  of  the  remorse  now  weighing 
upon  you,  as  far  as  it  shall  be  within  my  power 
to  do  so. 

"  ]\Ir.  Runningbrook  has  been  invited  by  my 
brother  to  come  and  be  her  companion.  They 
have  a  strong  affection  for  one  another. 

Wilfrid  to  Georgiana  Ford. 

"  I  cannot  thank  you  enough.  When  I  think  of 
her  I  am  immanned;  and  if  I  let  my  thoughts  fall 
back  upon  myself,  I  am  such  as  you  saw  me  that 
night  in  Devon — helpless,  and  no  very  presentable 
figure.  But,  you  do  not  picture  her  to  me.  I 
cannot  imagine  whether  her  face  has  changed ;  and, 
pardon  me,  were  I  writing  to  you  alone,  I  could  have 
faith  that  the  delicate  insight  and  angelic  nature  of 
a  woman  would  not  condemn  my  desire  to  reahse 
before  my  eyes  the  state  she  has  fallen  to.  I  see 
her  now  under  a  black  shroud.  Have  her  features 
changed  ?  I  cannot  remember  one — only  at  an 
interval  her  eyes.     Does  she  look  into  the  faces  of 


IN  WHICH   WE   SEE   WILFRID   KINDLING.  127 

people  as  she  used  ?  Or  does  she  stare  carelessly 
away  ?  Softly  between  the  eyes,  is  what  I  meant. 
I  mean — but  my  reason  for  this  particularity  is 
very  simple.  I  would  state  it  to  you,  and  to  no 
other.  I  cannot  have  peace  till  she  is  restored; 
and  my  prayer  is,  that  I  may  not  haunt  her  to  defeat 
your  laboui'.  Does  her  face  appear  to  show  that 
I  am  quite  absent  from  her  thoughts  ?  Oh  !  you 
will  understand  me.  You  have  seen  me  stand  and 
betray  no  suffering  when  a  shot  at  my  forehead 
would  have  been  mercy.  To  you  I  will  dare  to 
open  my  heart.  I  ^vish  to  be  certain  that  I  have 
not  injured  her — that  is  all.  Perhaps  I  am  more 
guilty  than  you  think :  more  even  than  I  can  call 
to  mind.  If  I  may  judge  by  the  punishment,  my 
guilt  is  immeasm-able*  Tell  me — if  you  will  but 
tell  me  that  the  sacrifice  of  my  life  to  her  will 
restore  her,  it  is  hers.  Write,  and  say  this,  and 
I  will  come.  Do  not  delay,  or  spare  me.  Her 
dumb  voice  is  like  a  ghost  in  my  ears.  It  cries  to 
me  that  I  have  killed  it.  Be  actuated  by  no  chari- 
table considerations  in  refraining  to  write.  Could 
a  miniature  of  her  be  sent?  You  will  think  the 
request  strange ;  but  I  want  to  be  sure  she  is  not 
haggard — not  the  hospital  face  I  fancy  now,  which 
accuses   me   of  murder.      Does   she   preserve   the 


128  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

glorious  freshness  she  used  to  wear?  She  had  a 
look — or  did  you  see  her  before  the  change  ?  I 
only  want  to  know  that  she  is  ivell.'' 

Tracy  Runninghrook  to  Wilfrid. 

"  You  had  my  promise  that  I  would  write  and  give 
your  conscience  a  nightcap.  I  have  a  splendid  one 
for  you.  Put  it  on  without  any  hesitation.  I  find 
her  quite  comfortable.  Powys  reads  Italian  with 
her  in  the  morning.  His  sister  (who  might  be  a 
woman  if  she  liked,  but  has  an  insane  preference  for 
celestial  neutrality)  does  the  moral  inculcation. 
The  effect  is  comical.  I  should  like  you  to  see 
Cold  Steel  leading  Tame  Fire  about,  and  imagining 
the  taming  to  be  her  work !  You  deserve  well  of 
your  generation.  You  just  did  enough  to  set  this 
darling  girl  alight.  Knights  and  squires  number- 
less will  thank  jou.  The  idea  of  your  reproaching 
3'ourself  is  monstrous.  Why,  there's  no  one  thanks 
you  more  than  she  does.  You  stole  her  voice,  which 
some  may  think  a  pity,  but  I  don't,  seeing  that  I 
would  rather  have  her  in  a  salon  than  before  the 
footlights.  Imagine  my  glory  in  her ! — she  has  be- 
come half  cat !  She  moves  softly,  as  if  she  loved 
everything  she  touched ;  making  you  throb  to  feel 
the  little  ball  of  her  foot.     Her  eyes  look  steadily. 


IN    WHICH    WE    SEE    WILFIUD    KINDLING.  129 

like  green  jewels  before  the  veil  of  an  Egyptian 
temple.  Positively,  her  eyes  have  grown  green — or 
greenish  !  They  were  darkish  hazel  fonnerly,  and 
talked  more  of  milkmaids  and  chattering  pastorals 
than  a  discerninc^  master  would  have  wished.  Take 
credit  for  the  chancje !  and  at  least  /  don't  blame 
you  for  the  tender  hollows  under  the  eyes,  sloping 
outward,  just  hinted  ....  Love's  mark  on 
her,  so  that  men's  hearts  may  faint  to  know  that 
love  is  known  to  her,  and  burn  to  read  her  history. 
"When  she  is  about  to  speak,  the  upper  lids 
droop  a  very  little ;  or  else  the  under-lids  quiver 
upward — I  know  not  which.  Take  further  credit 
for  her  manner.  She  has  now  a  manner  of  her 
own.  Some  of  her  naturalness  has  gone,  but  she 
has  skipped  clean  over  the  '  young  lady '  stage  ; 
from  raw  girl  she  has  really  got  as  much  of  the 
great  manner  as  a  woman  can  have  v.ho  is  not  an 
ostensibly  retu-ed  dowager,  or  a  matron  on  a  pedes- 
tal shuffing  the  naked  virtues  and  the  decorous 
vices  together.  She  looks  at  you  with  an  immense, 
marvellous  gravity,  before  she  repHes  to  you  — 
enveloping  you  in  a  velvet  light.  This  is  fact,  not 
fine  stuff,  my  dear  fellow.  The  light  of  her  eyes 
does  absolutely  cling  about  you.  Adieu  !  You  are 
a  great   master,  and  know   exactly  when   to  make 


130  EMILIA   ESi    EXGLA2sT). 

your  bow  and  retire.     A  little  more,  and  yoii  would 
have  spoilt  lier.     Now  she  is  perfect." 

Wilfrid  to  Tracy  Runninghrook. 
"I  have  just  come  across  a  review  of  your  last 
book,  and  send  it,  thinking  you  may  wish  to  see  it. 
I  have  put  a  query  to  one  of  the  passages,  which  I 
think  misquoted :  and  there  will  be  no  necessity  to 
call  your  attention  to  the  critic's  English.     You  can 
afford  to  laugh  at  it,  but  I  confess  it  puts   your 
friends  in  a  rage.     Here  are  a  set  of  fellows  who 
arm  themselves  with  whips  and  stand  in  the  public 
thoroughfare  to  make  any  man  of  real  genius  run 
the  gauntlet   down   their  ranks  till   he  comes  out 
flayed   at  the  other  extremity!     What   constitutes 
their  right  to  be  there  ? — By  the  way,  I  met  Sir 
Purcell  Barrett  (the  fellow  who  was  at  Hillford),  and 
he  would  like  to  write  an  article  on  you  that  should 
act   as    a  sort  of  rejoinder.     You  won't   mind,  of 
course — it's   bread   to   him,   poor   devil !     I    doubt 
whether  I  shall  see  you  when  you  come  back,  so 
write  a  jolly  lot   of  letters.     Colonel   Pierson,  of 
the  Austrian  armj^  my  uncle  (did  you  meet  him  at 
Brookfield?),  advises  me  to  sell  out  immediately. 
He  is  getting  me  an  imperial  commission — cavahy. 
I  shall  give  up  the  English  service.    And  if  they  want 


IN   WHICH   WE   SEE    WILFKID    KIXDLING.  131 

my  medal,  they  can  have  it,  and  I'll  begin  again. 
I'm  sick  of  everything  except  a  cigar  and  a  good 
volume  of  poems.  Here's  to  light  one,  and  now  for 
the  other  ! 

''  *  Large  eyes  lit  up  by  some  imperial  sin,' "  &c. 

(Tai  lines  from  TrcLcrjs  hooJc  arc  liere  copied  neatly.) 

Tracy  Eunninghrooh  to  Wilfrid. 

"  Why  the  deuce  do  you  write  me  such  infernal 
trash  about  the  opinions  of  a  villanous  dog  who 
can't  even  pen  a  decent  sentence  ?  I've  been 
damning  you  for  a  white-livered  Austrian  up  and 
down  the  house.  Let  the  fellow  bark  till  he  froths 
at  the  mouth,  and  scatters  the  vii'us  of  the  beast 
among  his  filthy  friends.  I  am  mad-dog  proof. 
The  lines  you  quote  were  written  in  an  awful  huny, 
coming  up  in  the  train  from  Eichford  one  morning. 
You  have  liit  upon  my  worst  with  commendable 
sagacity.  If  it  will  put  money  in  Barrett's  pocket, 
let  him  writ^.  I  should  prefer  to  have  nothing  said. 
The  chances  are  all  in  favour  of  his  writing  like  a 
fool.  If  you're  going  to  be  an  Austrian,  we  may 
have  a  chance  of  shooting  one  another  some  daj',  so 
here's  my  hand  before  you  go  and  sell  your  soul ; 
and  anything  I  can  do  in  the  meantime — command 
me." 

k2 


132  EMTLL\   IN   ENGLAND. 

Georgiana  Ford  to  Wilfrid, 
"I  do  not  dare  to  cliarge  you  with  a  breach  of 
your  pledged  word.  Let  me  tell  you  simply  that 
Emilia  has  become  aware  of  your  project  to  enter 
the  Austrian  service,  and  it  has  had  the  effect  on  her 
which  I  foresaw.  Slie  could  bear  to  hear  of  your 
marriage,  but  this  is  too  much  for  her,  and  it  breaks 
my  heart  to  see  her.  It  is  too  cruel.  She  does  not 
betray  any  emotion,  but  I  can  see  that  every  prin- 
ciple she  had  gained  is  gone,  and  that  her  bosom 
holds  the  shadows  of  a  real  despair.  I  foresaw  it, 
and  sought  to  guard  her  against  it.  That  you, 
whom  she  has  once  called  (to  me)  her  lover,  should 
enlist  himself  as  an  enemy  of  her  country ! — it 
comes  to  her  as  a  fact  striking  her  brain  dumb 
while  she  questions  it,  and  the  poor  body  has 
nothing  to  do  but  to  ache.  Surely  you  could  have 
no  object  in  doing  this  ?  I  will  not  suspect  it. 
Mr.  Piunningbrook  is  acquainted  with  your  plans, 
I  believe ;  but  he  has  no  remembrance  of  having 
mentioned  this  one  to  Emiha.  He  distinctly  assures 
me  that  he  has  not  done  so,  and  I  trust  him  to 
speak  truth.  How  can  it  have  happened  ?  But 
here  is  the  evil  done.  I  see  no  remedy.  I  am  not 
skilled  in  sketching  the  portraits  you  desire  of  her, 
and  yet,  if  you  have  ever  wished  her  to  know  this 


IX   WHICH   WE    SEE    WILFRID   KDs'DLIXG.  1 33 

miserable  thing,  it  would  be  as  well  that  you  should 
see  the  diflferent  face  that  has  come  among  us  within 
twenty  hours." 

Wilfrid  to  Georrjiana  Ford. 

"  I  will  confine  my  reply  to  a  simple  denial  of 
having  caused  this  fatal  intelligence  to  reach  her 
ears  ;  for  the  truth  of  which,  I  pledge  my  honour 
as  a  gentleman.  A  second's  thought  would  have 
told  me — indeed  I  at  once  acquiesced  in  your  view — 
that  she  should  not  know  it.  How  it  has  happened 
it  is  vain  to  attempt  to  guess.  Can  jom  suppose 
that  I  desired  her  to  hate  me  ?  Yet  this  is  what 
the  knowledge  of  the  step  I  am  taking  will  make 
her  do  !  If  I  could  see — if  I  might  see  her  for  five 
minutes,  I  should  be  able  to  explain  everything, 
and,  I  sincerely  think  (painful  as  it  would  be  to 
me),  give  her  something  like  peace.  It  is  too  late 
even   to   wish   to    justify  myself;    but   her    I    can 

persuade  that  she do  you  not  see  that  her  mind 

is  still  unconvinced  of  my — I  will  call  it  baseness ! 
Is  this  the  self-accusing  you  despise  ?  A  little  of 
it  must  be  heard.  If  I  may  see  her  I  will  not  fail 
to  make  her  understand  my  position.  She  shall  see 
that  it  is  I  who  am  worthless — not  she  !  You  know 
the  circumstances  under  which  I  last  beheld  her — 


134  E3IILDi   IN  ENGLAND. 

■wlien  I  saw  pang  upon  pang  smiting  her  breast  from 
my  silence  !  But  now  I  may  speak.  Do  not  be 
prepossessed  against  my  proposition.  It  shall  be 
only  for  five  minutes — no  more.  Not  that  it  is  my 
desire  to  come.  In  truth,  it  could  not  be.  I  have 
felt   that   I    alone    can   ciu-e   her — I   who    did    the 

harm.     Mark  me  :    she  will   fret  secretly ,  but 

dear  and  kindest  lady,  do  not  smile  too  critically 
at  the  tone  I  adopt.  I  cannot  tell  how  I  am 
writing  or  what  saying.  Believe  me  that  I  am 
deeply  and  constantly  sensible  of  your  generosity. 
In  case  you  hesitate,  I  beg  you  to  consult  Mr. 
Powys.'' 

Georgiana  Ford  to  Wilfrid. 

"  I  had  no  occasion  to  consult  my  brother  to  be 
certain  that  an  interview  between  yourself  and 
Emilia  should  not  take  place.  There  can  be  no 
object,  even  if  the  five  minutes  of  the  meeting  gave 
her  happiness,  why  the  wound  of  the  long  parting 
should  be  again  opened.  She  is  wretched  enough 
now,  though  her  tenderness  for  us  conceals  it  as  far 
as  possible.  When  some  heavenly  Light  shall  have 
penetrated  her,  she  will  have  a  chance  of  peace. 
The  evil  is  not  of  a  nature  to  be  driven  out  by  your 
hands.     If  you   are   not   going  into   the  Austrian 


IN   WHICH  WE   SEE   WILFEID   KIXDLIXG.  135 

service,  she  shall  know  as  much  immediately. 
Otherwise,  he  as  dead  to  her  as  you  may,  and  your 
nohlest  feelings  cannot  he  shown  under  any  form 
hut  that." 

Wilfrid  to  Tracy  Runninghrook. 
"  Some  fellows  whom  I  know  w^ant  you  to  write  a 
prologue  to  a  play  they  are  going  to  get  up.  It's 
ahout  Shakespeare — at  least,  the  proceeds  go  to 
something  of  that  sort.  Do,  like  a  good  fellow,  toss 
us  off  twenty  lines.  Why  don't  you  write  ?  By 
the  way,  I  hope  there's  no  truth  in  a  report  that  has 
somehow  reached  me,  that  they  have  the  news  down 
in  jMonmouth  of  my  deserting  to  the  hlack-yellow 
squadrons  ?  Of  course,  such  a  thing  as  that  should 
have  been  kept  from  them,  I  hear,  too,  that  your — 
I  suppose  I  must  call  her  now  Tjour — pupil  is  falling 
into  had  health.  Think  me  as  cold  and  '  British  ' 
as  you  like  ;  but  the  thought  of  this  does  reaUy 
affect  me  painfully.  Upon  my  honour,  it  does ! 
'  And  now  he  yawns ! '  you're  saying.  You're 
wrong.  We  army  men  feel  just  as  you  poets  do, 
and  for  a  longer  time,  I  think,  though  perhaps  not 
so  acutely.  I  send  you  the  '  Venus '  cameo  which 
you  admired.  Pray  accept  it  from  an  old  friend. 
I  mayn't  see  you  again." 


136  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAN^D. 

Tracy  Bunninghrooh  to  Wilfrid 

(enclosing  lines). 

"Here  tliey  are.  It  will  require  a  man  ^vllO 
knows  something  about  metre  to  S2:)eak  them.  Had 
Shakespeare's  grandmother  three  Christian  names  ? 
and  did  she  anticipate  feminine  posterity  in  her 
rank  of  life  by  saying  habitually,  '  Drat  it  ? '  There 
is  as  yet  no  Society  to  pursue  this  investigation,  but 
it  should  be  started.  Enormous  thanks  for  the 
Venus.  I  wore  it  this  morning  at  breakfast.  Just 
as  we  were  rising,  I  leaned  forward  to  her,  and  she 
jumped  up  with  her  eyes  under  my  chin.  'Isn't 
she  a  beauty  ?  '  I  said.  '  It  was  his,'  she  answered, 
changing  eyes  of  eagle  for  eyes  of  dove,  and  then 
put  out  the  lights.  I  had  half  a  mind  to  offer  it,  on 
the  spot.  May  I  ?  That  is  to  say,  if  the  impulse 
seizes  me  I  take  nobody's  advice,  and  fair  Yenus 
certainly  is  not  under  my  chin  at  this  moment.  As 
to  ill  heath,  great  mother  Nature  has  given  a  house 
of  iron  to  this  soul  of  fire.  The  windows  may  blaze, 
or  the  windows  may  be  extinguished,  but  the  house 
stands  firm.  AVhen  you  are  lightning  or  earth- 
quake, you  may  have  something  to  reproach  your- 
self for ;  as  it  is,  be  under  no  alarm.  Do  not  put 
words  in  my  mouth  that  I  have  not  uttered.     '  And 


IN   WHICH   WE    SEE   WILFRID    KIXDLrS'G.  137 

now  he  yawns,'  is  what  I  shoukl  say  of  you  onl}' 
when  I  am  sure  you  have  just  heard  a  good  thing. 
You  really  are  the  best  fellow  of  your  set  that  I 
have  come  across,  and  the  only  one  pretending 
to  brains.  Your  modesty  in  estimating  your  value 
as  a  leader  of  Pandours  will  be  pleasing  to  them 
that  like  modesty.  Good  bye.  This  little  Emilia 
is  a  maiwel  of  flying  moods.  Yesterday  she  went 
about  as  if  she  said,  '  I've  promised  Apollo  not  to 
speak  tiU  to-morrow.'  To-daj-,  she's  in  a  feverish 
gabble, — or  began  the  day  with  a  burst  of  it ;  and 
now  she's  soft  and  sensible.  If  you  fancy  a  girl  at 
her  age  being  able  to  see  that  it's  a  woman's  duty  to 
herself  and  the  world  to  be  artistic — to  perfect  the 
thing  of  beauty  she  is  meant  to  be  by  nature  I — and 
seeing,  too,  that  Love  is  an  instrument  like  any 
other  thing,  and  that  we  must  play  on  it  with  con- 
siderate gentleness,  and  that  tearing  at  it  or  dashing 
it  to  earth,  maldug  it  howl  and  quiver,  is  madness, 
and  not  love  ! — I  assure  you  she  begins  to  see  it ! 
She  does  see  it.  She  is  going  to  wear  a  wreath  of 
black  briony  (preserved  and  set  by  Miss  Ford,  a  per- 
son cunning  in  these  matters).  She's  going  to  the 
ball  at  Penarvon  Castle,  and  will  look — supply  your 
favorite  slang  word.  A  little  more  experience,  and 
she  wiU  have  malice.     She  wants  nothing  but  that 


138  EMILIA   IN  ENGLAND. 

to  make  lier  consummate.  Malice  is  the  barb  of 
beaut3^  She's  just  at  present  a  trifle  blunt.  She 
TV'ill  knock  over,  but  not  transfix.  I  am  anxious  to 
-watch  the  effect  she  produces  at  Penarvon.  Poor 
little  woman !  I  paid  a  comjohment  to  her  eyes. 
'  I've  got  nothing  else,'  said  she.  Dine  as  well  as 
you  can  while  you  are  in  England.  German 
cookery  is  an  education  for  the  sentiment  of  hogs. 
The  play  of  sour  and  sweet,  and  crowning  of  the 
whole  with  fat,  shows  a  people  determined  to  go 
doivn  in  civilization,  and  try  the  business  back- 
wards. Adieu,  curst  Croat!  On  the  Wallachian 
border  mayst  thou  gather  philosophy  from  medi- 
tation." 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

ox    THE    HIPPOGEIFF   IN   AIR:     IN   WHICH    THE 
PHILOSOPHER    HAS   A    SHORT   INNINGS. 

Dexterously  as  Vv^ilfrid  had  turned  Tracy  to  his 
uses  b}^  means  of  the  foregomg  correspondence,  in 
doing  so  he  had  exposed  himself  to  the  retributive 
poison  administered  by  that  cunning  youth.  And 
now  the  HippogTiff  seized  him,  and  mounted  with 
him  into  mid-ak;  not  as  when  the  idle  boy 
Ganymede  was  caught  up  to  act  as  cup-bearer  in 
celestial  com'ts,  but  to  plunge  about  on  yielding 
vapoui's,  with  nothing  near  him  save  the  voice  of 
his  desire. 

The  Philosopher  here  peremptorily  demands  a 
short  innings.  We  are  subject,  he  says,  to  fan- 
tastic moods,  and  shall  dry,  ready-minted  phrases 
picture  them  forth?  As,  for  example,  can  the 
words  '  delirium,'  or  'frenzy,'  convey  an  image  of 
AVilfrid's  state,  when  his  heart  began  to  covet 
Emilia  again,  and  his  sentiment  not  only  inter- 
posed   no    obstacle,    but    trumpeted    her    charms 


140  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

and   fawned   for   her,    and    lie    tliouglit    her    lost, 
remembered  that  she  had  been  his  own,  and  was 
ready  to  do   any  madness  to  obtain  her  ?      '  Mad- 
ness '  is  the  word  that  hits  the  mark,  but  it  does 
not  fully  embrace  the  meaning.     To  be  in  this  state, 
saj^s  the  philosopher,  is  to  be  on  the  Hippogriff  ; 
and  to  this,  as  he  explains,  the  persons  who  travel 
to  Love  by  the  road  of  sentiment  will  come,  if  they 
have  any  stuff  in  them,  and  if  the  one  who  kindles 
them  is  mighty.      He  distinguishes  being  on  the 
Hippogriff  from  being  possessed  by  passion.     Pas- 
sion, he  says,  is  noble  strength  on  fire,  and  points  to 
Emilia  as   a  representation  of  passion.     She  asks 
for  what  she  thinks  she  ma}^  have ;  she  claims  what 
she  imagines  to  be  her  own.     She  has  no  shame, 
and  thus,  believing  in,  she  never  violates,  nature, 
and  offends  no  law,  wild  as  she  may  seem.     Passion 
does   not  turn   on   her   and   rend   her  when   it   is 
thwarted.     She  was  never  carried  out  of  the  limit  of 
her  own  intelligent  force,  seeing  that  it  directed  her 
always,  with  the  simple  mandate  to  seek  that  w^hich 
belonged  to  her.     She  was  perfectly  sane,   and  con- 
stantly just  to  herself,  until  the  failure  of  her  voice, 
telling  her  that  she  was  a  beggar  in  the  world,  came 
as  a  second  blow,  and  partly   scared   her   reason. 
Constantly    just   to   herself,   mind!      This   is   the 


ON   THE   HIPPOGRIFF   IN   AIR.  141 

quality  of  true  passion.     Those  who  make  a  noise, 
and  are  not  thus  distinguishable,  are  on  Hippogriflf. 

By  which  it  is  clear  to  me  that  my  fantastic 
philosopher  means  to  indicate  the  lover  mounted  in 
this  wise,  as  a  creature  bestriding  an  extraneous 
power.  "  The  sentimentalist,"  he  says,  "  goes  on 
accumulating  images  and  hiving  sensations,  till  such 
time  as  (if  the  stuff  be  in  him)  they  assume  a  form 
of  vitality,  and  hurry  him  headlong.  This  is  not 
passion,  though  it  amazes  men,  and  does  the  madder 
thing." 

In  fine,  it  is  Hippogriff.  And  right  loath  am  I  to 
continue  my  partnership  with  a  fellow  who  will  not 
see  things  on  the  surface,  and  is,  as  a  necessary 
consequence,  blind  to  the  fact  that  the  public  detest 
him.  I  mean,  this  garrulous,  super-subtle,''so-called 
philosopher,  w'ho  first  set  me  upon  the  building  of 
the  Three  Volumes,  it  is  true,  but  whose  stipulation 
that  he  should  occupy  so  large  a  portion  of  them 
has  made  them  rock  top-heavy,  to  the  forfeit  of 
theii'  stabilit}'.  He  maintains  that  a  story  should 
not  always  flow,  or,  at  least,  not  to  a  given  measure. 
When  we  are  knapsack  on  back,  he  says,  we  come 
to  eminences  wdiere  a  survey  of  our  journey  past 
and  in  advance  is  desirable,  as  is  a  distinct  pause  in 
any  business,  here  and  there.     He  points  proudly 


142  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

to  the  fact  that  our  people  in  this  comedy  move 
themselves, — are  moved  from  their  own  impulsion, 
— and  that  no  arbitrary  hand  has  posted  them  to 
bring  about  any  event  and  heap  the  catastrophe. 
In  vain  I  tell  him  that  he  is  meantime  making 
tatters  of  the  puppets'  golden  robe — illusion:  that 
he  is  sucking  the  blood  of  their  warm  humanity 
out  of  them.  He  promises  that  when  Emilia  is  in 
Italy  he  will  retire  altogether ;  for  there  is  a  field 
of  action,  of  battles  and  conspiracies,  nerve  and 
muscle,  where  life  fights  for  plain  issues,  and  he 
can  but  sum  results.  Let  us,  he  entreats,  be  true 
to  time  and  place.  In  our  fat  England,  the  gar- 
dener, Time,  is  playing  all  sorts  of  delicate  freaks 
in  the  hues  and  traceries  of  the  flower  of  life,  and 
shall  we  not  note  them  ?  If  we  are  to  understand 
our  species,  and  mark  the  progress  of  civilisation 
at  all,  we  must.  Thus  the  philosopher.  Our  partner 
is  our  master,  and  I  submit,  hopefully  looking  for 
release  with  my  Emilia,  in  the  da}^  when  Italy 
reddens  the  sk}'-  with  the  banners  of  a  land  revived. 
I  hear  Wilfrid  singing  out  that  he  is  aloft,  burning 
to  rush  ahead,  while  his  beast  capers  in  one  spot, 
abominably  ludicrous.  This  trick  of  HippogTiff  is 
peculiar,  viz.,  that  when  he  loses  all  faith  in  himself, 
he   sinks — in   other   words,   goes    to    excesses    of 


ON   THE   HIPPOGRIFF    IX   AIR.  143 

absurd  humility  to  regain  it.  Passion  has  likeA^ise 
its  i^anting  intervals,  but  does  nothing  so  prepos- 
terous. The  wreath  of  black  brion}-,  spoken  of 
by  Tracy  as  the  crown  of  Emilia's  forehead,  had 
begun  to  glow  with  a  furnace -colour  in  Wilfrid's 
fancy.  It  worked  a  Satanic  distraction  in  him. 
The  gild  sat  before  him  swathed  in  a  darkness, 
with  the  edges  of  the  briony  leaves  shining  deadly- 
radiant  above — young  Hecate !  The  next  instant 
he  was  bleeding  with  pity  for  her,  aching  with 
remorse,  and  again  stung  to  intense  jealousy  of  all 
who  might  behold  her  (amid  a  reserve  of  angi-y 
sensations  at  her  present  happiness). 

Why  had  she  not  made  allowance  for  his  miser- 
able situation  that  night  in  Devon  ?  "SMiy  did  she 
not  comprehend  his  difficulties  in  relation  to  his 
father's  affaii's?  Why  did  she  not  hwio  that  he 
could  not  fail  to  love  her  for  ever  ? 

Interrogations  such  as  these  were  so  many 
switches  of  the  whip  in  the  flanks  of  Hippogriff. 

Another  peculiarity  of  the  animal  gifted  with 
wings  is,  that  around  the  height  he  soars  to  he  can 
see  no  barriers  nor  any  of  the  fences  raised  by  men. 
And  here  again  he  differs  from  Passion,  which  may 
tug  against  common  sense  but  is  never,  in  a  great 
nature,    divorced   from   it.     In   air  on   Hippogiiff, 


144  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

desires  wax  boundless,  obstacles  are  hidden.  It 
seemed  nothing  to  Wilfrid  (after  several  tremendous 
descents  of  humility)  that  he  should  hurry  Mon- 
mouth way,  to  gaze  on  Emilia  under  her  fair,  in- 
fernal, bewitching  wreath;  nothing  that  he  should 
put  an  arm  round  her;  nothing  that  he  should 
forthwith  carry  her  off,  though  he  died  for  it. 
Forming  no  design  beyond  that  of  setting  his  eyes 
on  her,  he  turned  the  head  of  Hippogriff  due 
westward. 


CHAPTEK  IX. 

ON    THE    HIPPOGRIFF    OX    EARTH. 

Penarvon  Castle  lay  over  the  borders  of  Mon- 
mouthshire. Thither,  on  a  night  of  frosty  moon- 
light, troops  of  carriages  were  hurr3dng  with  the 
usual  freightage  for  a  country  ball : — the  squire 
wlio  will  not  make  himself  happy  by  seeing  that  his 
duty  to  the  softer  side  of  his  family  must  be  per- 
formed during  the  comfortable  hours  when  bachelors 
snooze  in  arm-chairs,  and  his  nobler  dame  who, 
not  caring  for  port  or  tobacco,  cheerfully  accepts 
the  order  of  things  as  bequeathed  to  her  :  the  ever- 
lastingly half-satisfied  young  man,  who  looks  for- 
ward to  the  hour  when  his  cigar-light  will  shine ; 
and  the  damsel  thrice  demure  as  a  cover  for  her 
eagerness.  Within  a  certain  distance  of  one  of  the 
carriages,  a  man  rode  on  horseback.  The  court  of 
the  castle  was  reached,  and  he  turned  aside,  linger- 
ing to  see  whether  he  could  get  a  view  of  the  lighted 
steps.  To  effect  his  object,  he  dismounted  and  led 
his  horse  through  the  gates,  turning  from  gravel  to 

VOL.    HI.  L 


140  EMILIA   IN   ENGLA^^D. 

sward,  to  kee^o  in  the  dusk.  A  very  agile,  middle- 
aged  gentleman  was  the  first  to  appear  imder  the 
portico -lamps,  and  he  gave  his  hand  to  a  girl  of 
fifteen,  and  then  to  a  most  portly  lady  in  a  scarlet 
mantle.  The  carriage-door  slammed  and  drove  off, 
while  a  groan  issued  from  the  silent  spectator. 
"  Good  Heavens !  have  I  followed  these  horrible 
I)eople  for  five-and-twenty  miles  !  "  Carriage  after 
carriage  rattled  up  to  the  steps,  was  disburdened 
of  still  more  *  horrible  people  '  to  him,  and  went  the 
way  of  the  others.  "I  shan't  see  her,  after  all,"  he 
cried  hoarsely,  and  mounting,  said  to  the  beast  that 
bore  him,  "  Nov/  go  sharp." 

Whether  you  recognise  the  rider  of  Hippogriff  or 
not,  this  is  he ;  and  the  poor  livery-stable  screw 
stretched  madly  till  wind  failed,  when  he  was 
allowed  to  choose  his  pace.  AVilfrid  had  come  from 
London  to  have  sight  of  Emilia  in  the  black-briony 
wreath  :  to  see  her,  himself  unseen,  and  go.  But 
he  had  not  seen  her ;  so  he  had  the  full  excuse  to 
continue  the  adventure.  He  rode  into  a  Welsh 
town,  and  engaged  a  fresh  horse  for  the  night. 

*'  She  won't  sing,  at  all  events,'*  thought  "Wilfrid, 
to  comfort  himself,  before  the  memory  that  she 
could  not,  in  any  case,  touch  springs  of  weakness, 
and  pitying  tenderness.   From  an  eminence  to  which 


'     ON   THE   HIPPOGRITF  ON   EARTH.  147 

he  walked  outside  tlie  town,  Peuarvon  "svas  plainly 
visible  with  all  its  hghted  windows. 

"But  I  will  pluck  her  from  you!"  he  muttered, 
in  a  spasm  of  jealousy;  the  image  of  himself  as  an 
outcast  against  the  world  that  held  her,  striking  him 
with  great  force  at  that  moment. 

''  I  must  give  up  the  Austrian  commission,  if  she 
takes  me." 

And  be  what?  For  he  had  sold  out  of  the 
EngHsh  service,  and  was  to  receive  the  money  in 
a  couple  of  days.  How  long  would  the  money 
support  him  ?  It  would  not  pay  half  his  debts ! 
^Vhat,  then,  did  this  pursuit  of  Emiha  mean? 
To  blink  this  question,  he  had  to  give  the 
spur  to  Hippogrifi".  It  meant  (upon  Hippogi-rff  at 
a  brisk  gallop),  that  he  intended  to  live  for  her,  die 
for  her,  if  need  be,  and  carve  out  of  the  world  all 
that  she  would  requii-e.  Everything  appears  possible, 
on  Hippogi-iff,  when  he  is  going ;  but  it  is  a  bad 
business  to  put  the  spur  on  so  wiUing  a  beast. 
"When  he  does  not  go  of  his  own  will; — when  lie 
sees  that  there  are  obstructions,  it  is  best  to  jump 
off  his  back.  And  we  should  abandon  him  then,  save 
that  having  once  tasted  what  he  can  do  for  us,  we 
become  enamoured  of  the  habit  of  going  keenly, 
and  defying  obstacles.    Thus  do  we  begin  to  coiTupt 


148  EMILL\   IN   ENGLAND. 

the  uses  of  the  gallant  beast  (for  he  is  a  gallant 
beast,  though  not  of  the  first  order) ;  we  spoil  his 
instincts  and  train  him  to  hurry  us  to  perdition. 

"  If  my  sisters  could  see  me  now ! "  thought 
Wilfrid,  half- smitten  with  a  distant  notion  of  a 
singularity  in  his  position  there,  the  mark  for  a 
frosty  breeze,  while  his  eyes  kept  un deviating  watch 
over  Penarvon. 

After  a  time  he  went  back  to  the  inn,  and  got 
among  coachmen  and  footmen,  all  battling  lustily 
against  the  frost  with  weapons  scientifically  selected 
at  the  bar.  They  thronged  the  passages,  and  lunged 
hearty  punches  at  one  another,  drank  and  talked, 
and  only  noticed  that  a  gentleman  was  in  their 
midst  when  he  moved  to  get  a  light.  One  com- 
plained that  he  had  to  drive  into  Monmouth  that 
night,  by  a  road  that  sent  him  five  miles  out  of  his 
way,  owing  to  a  block — a  great  stone  that  had  fallen 
from  the  hill.  "  You  can't  ask  'em  to  get  out  and 
walk  ten  steps,"  he  said ;  "  or  there  !  I'd  lead  the 
horses  and  just  tip  up  the  off  wheels,  and  round  the 
place  in  a  twinkle,  pop  'em  in  again,  and  nobody 
hurt ;  but  you  can't  ask  ladies  to  risk  catchin'  colds 
for  the  sake  of  the  poor  horses." 

Several  coachmen  spoke  upon  this,  and  the  shame 
and  marvel  it  was   that  the  stone  had  not  been 


ON  TIIE   HIPPOGRIFF   ON   EARTH.  140 

moved  ;  and  between  tliem  the  name  of  Mr.  Powj^s 
was  mentioned,  with  the  remark  that  he  would  spare 
his  beasts  if  he  could. 

"What's  that  block  you're  speaking  of,  just  out 
of  Monmouth  ?  "  inquired  Wilfrid ;  and  it  being 
described  to  him,  together  with  the  exact  bearings 
of  the  road  and  situation  of  the  mass  of  stone,  he 
at  once  repeated  a  part  of  what  he  had  heard  in  the 
form  of  the  emphatic  interrogation.  "  What !  there  ? '' 
and  flatly  told  the  coachman  that  the  stone  had  been 
moved. 

"It  wasn't  moved  this  morning,  then,  sir,"  said 
the  latter. 

"  Xo ;  but  a  great  deal  can  be  done  in  a  couple  of 
hours,"  said  Wilfrid. 

"  Did  you  see  'em  at  work,  sir  ?  '^ 

"  Xo ;  bat  I  came  that  way,  and  the  road  was 
clear." 

"  The  deuce  it  was  !  "  ejaculated  the  coachman, 
Avillingly  convinced. 

"  And  that's  the  way  I  shall  return,"  added 
Wilfrid. 

He  tossed  some  money  on  the  bar  to  aid  in  warm- 
ing the  assemblage,  and  received  numerous  salutes 
as  he  passed  out. 

His  heart  was  beating  fast.     "  I  shall  see  her,  in 


150  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAXD. 

the  teeth  of  my  curst  luck,"  he  thought,  picturing 
to  himself  the  hlessed  spot  where  the  mass  of  stone 
would  lie  ;  and  to  that  point  he  gallopped,  concen- 
trating all  the  light  in  his  mind  on  this  maddest  of 
chances,  till  it  looked  sound,  and  finally  certain. 

"  It's  certain,  if  that's  not  a  hired  coachman,"  he 
calculated.  "  If  he  is,  he  won't  risk  his  fee.  If  he 
isn't,  he'll  feel  on  the  safe  side  an3'how.  At  any  rate, 
it's  my  only  chance."  And  away  he  flew  between 
glimmering  slopes  of  frost  to  where  a  white 
curtain  of  mist  hung  across  the  wooded  hills  of  the 
Wye. 


CHAPTER   X. 

EAPE    OF    THE    BLACK -BniOXY   WEEATH. 

Emill\  was  in  skilful  hands,  and  against  anything 
less  powerful  than  a  lover  mounted  upon  Hippogiiff, 
might  have  been  shielded.  AVhat  is  poison  to  most 
girls,  Merthyr  prescribed  for  her  as  medicine.  He 
nourished  her  fainting  spirit  upon  vanity.  In  silent 
astonishment  Georgiana  heard  him  address  speeches 
to  her  such  as  dowagers  who  have  seen  their  day 
can  alone  of  womankind  complacently  swallow.  He 
encouraged  Tracy  Bunningbrook  to  praise  the  face 
of  which  she  had  hitherto  thought  shyh\  Jewels 
were  placed  at  her  disposal,  and  dresses  laid  out 
cunningly  suited  to  her  complexion.  She  had  a 
maid  to  wait  on  her,  who  gabbled  at  the  momentous 
hours  of  robing  and  unrobing  :  "  Oh,  miss !  of  all 
the  dark  young  ladies  I  ever  see  !  " — Emilia  was  the 
most  bewitcliing.  By-and-by,  Emilia  was  led  to 
think  of  herself;  but  with  a  struggle  and  under 
protest.  How  could  it  be  possible  that  she  was  so 
very  nice  to  the  eye,  and  Wilfrid  had  abandoned 


152  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

lier  ?  The  healthy  spin  of  young  new  blood  turned 
the  wheels  of  her  brain,  and  then  she  thought : 
"  Perhaps  I  am  really  growing  handsome  ?  "  The 
maid  said  artfully  of  her  hair  :  "  If  gentlemen  could 
only  see  it  down,  miss !  It's  the  longest,  and 
thickest,  and  blackest,  I  ever  touched !  "  And  so 
saying,  slid  her  fingers  softly  through  it  after  the 
comb,  and  thrilled  the  owner  of  that  hair  till  soft 
thoughts  made  her  bosom  heave,  and  then  self-love 
began  to  be  sensibly  awakened,  followed  by  self-pity, 
and  some  further  form  of  what  we  understand  as  con- 
sciousness. If  partially  a  degradation  of  her  nature, 
this  saved  her  mind  from  true  despair  when  it  began 
to  stir  after  the  vital  shock  that  had  brought  her  to 
earth.  *'  To  what  purpose  should  I  be  fair  ?  "  was  a 
question  that  did  not  yet  come  home  to  her ;  but  it 
was  sweet  to  see  MerthjVs  eyes  gather  pleasure 
from  the  light  of  her  own.  Sweet,  though  nothing 
more  than  coldly  sweet.  She  compared  herself  to 
her  father's  old  broken  violin,  that  might  be  mended 
to  please  the  sight ;  but  would  never  give  the  tones 
again.  Sometimes,  if  hope  tormented  her,  she 
would  strangle  it  by  trying  her  voice  :  and  such  a 
little  piece  of  self-inflicted  anguish  speedily  undid 
all  Merthyr's  work.  He  was  patient  as  one  who 
tends  a  flower  in  the  spring.     Georgian  a  marvelled 


EAPE    OF   THE   BLACK-BRIOXY   WREATH.  153 

that  the  most  sensitive  and  proud  of  men  should  be 
striving  to  uproot  an  image  from  the  heart  of  a 
simple  girl,  that  he  might  place  his  own  there.  His 
methods  almost  led  her  to  think  that  his  estimate 
of  human  nature  was  falling  low.  Nevertheless,  she 
■was  constrained  to  admit  that  there  was  no  diminu- 
tion of  his  love  for  her,  and  it  chastened  her  to 
think   so.     "  Would   it   be   the   same   with   me,   if 

I ?  "   she  half  framed  the    sentence,   blushing 

remorsefully  while  she  denied  that  anything  could 
change  her  great  love  for  her  brother.  She  had 
caught  a  gUmpse  of  Wilfrid's  suppleness  and  selfish- 
ness. Contrasting  him  with  Merthyr,  she  was  sin- 
gularly smitten  with  shame,  she  knew  not  why. 

The  anticipation  of  the  ball  at  Penarvon  Castle 
had  kindled  very  little  curiosity  in  Emilia's  bosom. 
She  seemed  to  herself  a  machine  ;  '  one  of  the  rest ;' 
and  looked  more  to  see  that  she  was  still  coveted  by 
Merthyr's  eyes  than  at  the  glitter  of  the  humming 
saloons.  A  touch  of  her  old  gladness  made  her 
smile  when  Captain  Gambler  unexpectedly  appeared 
and  walked  across  the  dancers  to  sit  beside  her. 
She  asked  him  why  he  had  come  from  London  :  to 
which  he  replied,  with  a  most  expressive  gaze  under 
her  eyelids,  that  he  had  come  for  one  object.  "  To 
see  me  ?  "    thought  Emilia,   wondering,  and   red- 


154  EiULIA   IN  ENGLAND. 

dening  as  slie  ceased  to  wonder.  She  had  thought 
as  a  child,  and  the  next  instant  felt  as  a  woman. 
He  finished  Merthyr's  work  for  him.  Emilia  now 
thought  :  "  Then  I  must  be  worth  something." 
And  with  "I  am,"  she  ended  her  meditation, 
glowing.  He  might  have  said  that  she  had  all 
beauty  ever  showered  upon  woman  :  she  would 
have  been  led  to  believe  him  at  that  moment  of 
her  revival. 

Now,  Lady  Charlotte  had  written  to  Georgiana, 
telling  her  that  Captain  Gambier  was  soon  to  be 
expected  in  her  neighbourhood,  and  adding  that  it 
would  be  as  well  if  she  looked  closely  after  her 
charge.  When  Georgiana  saw  him  go  over  to 
Emilia  she  did  not  remember  this  warning:  but 
when  she  perceived  the  sudden  brilKancy  and  soft- 
ness in  Emilia's  face  after  the  first  words  had  fallen 
on  her  ears,  she  grew  alarmed,  knowing  his  reputa- 
tion, and  executed  some  diversions,  which  separated 
them.  The  Captain  made  no  effort  to  perplex  her 
tactics,  merely  saying  that  he  should  call'  in  a  day 
or  two.  Merthyr  took  to  himself  all  the  credit  of 
the  visible  bloom  that  had  come  upon  Emilia,  and 
pacing  with  her  between  the  dances,  said :  "  Now 
you  will  come  to  Ital}^,  I  think." 

She   paused    before    aiiswering.     "Now?"    and 


RAPE    OF   THE   BLACK-BRIOXY   WREATn.  155 

feverishly  continued  :  ''  Yes  ;  at  once.  I  vail  go. 
I  have  almost  felt  my  voice  again  to-night." 

"  That's  weU.  I  shall  write  to  Marini  to-morrow. 
You  will  soon  find  your  voice  if  you  will  not  fret 
for  it.     Touch  Italy  !  " 

"  Yes  ;  but  you  must  be  near  me,"  said  Emilia. 

Georgiana  heard  this,  and  could  not  conceive 
other  than  that  Emilia  was  growing  to  be  one  of 
those  cormorant  creatures  who  feed  alike  on  the 
homage  of  noble  and  ignoble.  She  was  critical, 
too,  of  that  very  assured  i)ose  of  Emilia's  head  and 
firm  planting  of  her  feet  as  the  girl  paraded  the 
room  after  the  dances  in  which  she  could  not  join. 
Previous  to  this  evening,  Georgiana  had  seen 
nothing  of  the  sort  in  her ;  but,  on  the  contrary-, 
a  doubtful  droop  of  the  shoulders  and  an  unwilling 
gaze,  as  of  a  soul  submerged  in  internal  hesitations. 
"  I  earnestly  trust  that  this  is  a  romantic  folly  of 
Merthj'r's,  and  no  more,"  thought  Georgiana,  who 
woukl  have  had  that  view  concerning  his  love  for 
Italy  likewise,  if  recollection  of  her  own  share  of 
adventure  there  had  not  softly  interposed. 

Tracy,  Georgiana,  Merthyr,  and  Emilia  were  in 
the  carriage,  well  muffled  up,  with  one  window  open 
to  tlie  white  mist.  Emilia  was  eager  to  thank  her 
friend,  if  only  for  the  physical  relief  from  weariness 


156  EMILIA  IN  ENGLA2sT>. 

and  sluggishness  -whicli  she  was  experiencing.  She 
knew  certainly  that  the  dim  light  of  a  recovering 
confidence  in  herself  was  owing,  all,  to  him,  and 
bm-ned  to  thank  him.  Once  on  the  way  their  hands 
touched,  and  he  felt  a  shy  pressure  from  her  fingers 
as  they  parted.  Presently  the  carriage  stopped 
abruptly,  and  listening  they  heard  the  coachman 
indulge  his  companion  outside  with  the  remark  that 
they  were  a  couple  of  fools,  and  were  now  regularly 
*  dished.' 

"I  don't  see  why  that  observation  can't  go  on 
wheels,"  said  Tracy. 

]\Ierthyr  put  out  his  head,  and  saw  the  obstruction 
of  the  mass  of  stone  across  the  road.  He  alighted, 
and  together  with  the  footman,  examined  the  place 
to  see  what  the  chance  was  of  their  getting  the 
carriage  joast.  After  a  space  of  waiting,  Georgiana 
clutched  the  wraps  about  her  throat  and  head,  and 
imj)etuously  followed  her  brother,  as  her  habit 
had  always  been.  Emilia  sat  upright,  saying,  "  I 
must  go,  too."  Tracy  moaned  a  petition  to  her  to 
rest  and  be  comfortable  while  the  gods  were  propi- 
tious. He  checked  her  with  his  arm,  and  tried  to 
pacify  her  by  giving  a  description  of  the  scene. 
The  coachman  remained  in  liis  seat.  ]\Ierthyr, 
Georgiana,  and  the  footman  were  on  the  other  side 


EAPE    OF   THE   BLACK-BRIONY   WREATH.  157 

of  the  rock,  measuring  the  place  to  see  whether,  hy 
a  partial  ascent  of  the  sloping  rubble  down  which  it 
had  bowled,  the  carriage  might  be  got  along. 

"  Go ;  they  have  gone  round  ;  see  whether  we  can 
give  an}'  help,"  said  Emilia  to  Tracy,  who  cried  : 
"  My  goodness  !  what  help  can  we  give  ?  This  is 
an  express  situation  where  the  Fates  always  appear 
in  person  and  move  us  on.  We're  sure  to  be  moved, 
if  we  show  proper  faith  in  them.  This  is  my  attitude 
of  invocation."  He  curled  his  legs  up  on  the  seat, 
resting  his  head  on  an  arm ;  but  seeing  Emilia 
preparing  for  a  jump  he  started  up,  and  immediately 
preceded  her.  Emilia  looked  out  after  him.  She 
perceived  a  figure  coming  stealthil}^  from  the  bank. 
It  stopped,  and  again  advanced,  and  now  ran  swiftly 
do^^^l.  She  drew  back  her  head  as  it  approached 
the  open  door  of  the  carriage ;  but  tlie  next  moment 
trembled  forward,  and  was  caught  with  a  cat-like 
clutch  upon  Wilfrid's  breast. 

"  Emilia  !  my  own  for  ever  !  I  swore  to  die  this 
night  if  I  did  not  see  you  !  " 

"  You  love  me,  Wilfrid  ?  love  me  ?  " 

"  Come  with  me  now  ?  " 

"  Now  ?  " 

"  Away  !  with  me  !  your  lover  !  " 

"  Then  you  love  me  !  " 


158  EMILIA  IX  ENGLAND. 

"  I  love  you !  Come  !  " 

"  Now  ?     I  cannot  move." 

*'  I  am  out  in  tlie  night  without  you  !  " 

"  Oh,  my  lover  !  Oh,  Wilfrid  !  " 

*'  Come  to  me  !  " 

"My  feet  are  dead!" 

"  It's  too  late  !  " 

A  sturdy  hullo  a !  sounding  from  the  coachman 
made  Merthyr's  ears  alive.  When  he  returned  he 
found  Emilia  huddled  up  on  the  seat,  alone,  her  face 
in  her  hands,  and  the  touch  of  her  hands  like  fire. 
He  had  to  entreat  her  to  descend,  and  in  helping 
her  to  ahght  bore  her  whole  weight,  and  supported 
her  in  a  sad  wonder,  while  the  horses  were  led  across 
the  rubble,  and  the  carriage  was  with  difficulty,  and 
some  contusions,  guided  to  clear  its  wheels  of  the 
obstructing  mass.  Emilia  persisted  in  saying  that 
nothing  ailed  her  ;  and  to  the  coachman,  who  could 
have  told  him  something,  and  was  willing  to  liave 
done  so  (notwithstanding  a  gold  fee  for  silence  that 
stuck  in  his  palm),  Merthyr  put  no  question. 

As  they  vrere  taldng  their  seats  in  the  carriage 
again,  Georgiana  said,  "  Where  is  your  wreath, 
Sandi'a  ?  " 

The  black-briony  vrreath  was  no  longer  on  her 
head. 


EAPE    OF   THE   BLACK-BEIOXY   WREATH.  159 

"  Tlien,  it  wasn't  a  dream  ! "  gasped  Emilia,  feeling 
at  her  temples. 

Georgiana  at  once  fell  into  a  scrutinizing  coldness, 
and  wlien  Merthjr,  who  fancied  the  wreath  might 
have  fallen  as  he  was  lifting  Emilia  from  the  carriage, 
proposed  to  go  and  search  the  place  for  it,  his  sister 
laid  her  fingers  on  his  arm,  remarking,  "You  will 
not  find  it,  dear;"  and  Emilia  cried:  "Oh!  no, 
no !  it  is  not  there  ; "  and  with  her  hands  pressed 
hai'd  against  her  bosom,  sat  fixed  and  silent. 

Out  of  this  mood  she  issued  with  looks  of  such 
tenderness  that  one  who  watched  her,  speculating 
on  her  character  as  Merthyr  did,  could  see  that  in 
some  mysterious  way  she  had  been  during  the  few 
minutes  that  separated  them,  illumined  upon  the 
matter  nearest  her  heaii.  "Was  it  her  own  strength, 
inspii'ed  by  some  sublime  force,  that  had  sprung  up 
suddenly  to  eject  a  worthless  love  ?  So  he  hoped 
in  despite  of  whispering  reason,  till  Georgiana  spoke 
to  him. 


CHAPTER  XI. 


THE    CALL    TO    ACTION. 


When  the  force  of   Wilfrid's  embrace  had  died 
out  from  her  bod}-,  Emilia  conceived  wilfully  that 
she  had  seen  an  apparition,  so  strange,  sudden,  and 
•wild  had  been  his  cominf:^  and  goiniij :  but  her  whole 
body  was  a  song  to  her.     "  He  is  not  false :  he  is 
true."      So    diml}',    however,    was    the    *  he '    now 
fashioned  in  her  brain,  and  so  like  a  thing  of  the 
air  had  he  descended  on  her,  that  she  almost  con- 
ceived the  abstract  idea,  'Love  is  true,'   and  pos- 
sibl}^,  though  her  senses  did  not  touch  on  it  to  shape 
it,  she  had  the  reflection  in  her :  "  After  all,  power 
is    mine   to   bring   him   to   my   side."     Almost   it 
seemed  to  her  that  she  had  brought  him  from  the 
grave.     She    sat  hugging  herself    in   the   carriage, 
hating  to  hear  words,  and  seeing  a  ball  of  fire  away 
in    the   white   mist.     Georgiana  looked  at   her  no 
more ;    and   when   Tracy    remarked    that    he   had 
fancied  having  seen  a  fellow  running  up  the  bank, 
she  said  quietly,  "  Did  you  ?  " 


THE    CALL   TO   ACTION.  IGl 

**  Robert  must  have  seen  him,  too,"  added 
Merthyr,  and  so  the  interloper  was  dismissed. 

On  reaching  home,  no  sooner  were  they  in  the 
hall*  than  Emilia  called  for  her  bed-room  candle  in 
a  thin,  querulous  voice  that  made  Tracy  shout  with 
laughter  and  love  of  her  quaintness. 

Emilia  gave  him  her  hand,  and  held  up  her  mouth 
to  kiss  Georgiana,  but  no  cheek  was  bent  forward 
for  the  salute.  The  girl  passed  from  among  them, 
and  then  Merthyr  said  to  his  sister  :  "  AYhat  is  the 
matter  ?  " 

"  Surely,  Merthyr,  you  should  not  be  at  a  loss," 
she  answered,  in  a  somewhat  unusual  tone,  that  was 
half  irony. 

Merthyr  studied  her  face.  Alone  with  her,  he 
said :  "  I  could  almost  suppose  that  she  has  seen 
this  man." 

Georgiana  smiled  sadly.  "  I  have  not  seen  him, 
dear;  and  she  has  not  told  me  so." 

"  You  think  it  was  so  ?  " 

"I  can  imagine  it  just  possible." 

"  "What !  while  we  were  out  and  had  left  her  !  He 
must  be  mad  !  " 

"  Xot  necessarily  mad,  unless  to  be  without  prin- 
ciple is  to  be  mad." 

"Mad,   or    graduating    for    a    Spanish    comedie 


162  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

d'intrigue"  said  Merthyr.  "  What  on  eartli  can 
he  mean  by  it  ?  If  he  must  see  her,  let  him 
come  here.  But  to  dog  a  carriage  at  midnight, 
and  to  prefer  to  act  startling  surprises  ! — one  can't 
help  thinking  that  he  delights  in  being  a  stage- 
hero." 

Georgiana's :  "  If  he  looks  on  her  as  a  stage- 
heroine  ? "  was  unheeded,  and  he  pui'sued :  "  She 
must  leave  England  at  once,"  and  stated  certain 
arrangements  that  were  immediately  to  be  made. 

"You  will  not  give  up  this  task  you  have 
imposed  on  yourself  ?  "  she  said. 

*'  To  do  what  ?  " 

She  could  have  answered :  "  To  make  this  un- 
satisfactory creature  love  you  ; "  but  her  words  were, 
"  To  civilize  this  little  savage." 

MerthjT:  was  bright  in  a  moment :  "  I  don't  give 
up  till  I  see  faiku'e." 

"  Is  it  not  possible,  dear,  to  be  dangerously 
blind  ?  "  urged  Georgiana. 

"Keep  to  the  particular  case,"  he  returned; 
"  and  don't  tempt  me  into  your  woman's  snare  of  a 
generalization.  It's  possible,  of  coui'se,  to  be  one- 
ideaed  and  obstinate.  But  I  have  not  yet  seen  your 
savage  guilty  of  a  deceit.  Her  heart  has  been  stirred, 
and  her  heart,  as  you  may  judge,  has  force  enough 


THE    CALL   TO   ACTION.  163 

to  be  constant,  though  none  can  deny  that  it  has 
been  roughly  proved." 

"  For  which  you  like  her  better  ?  "  said  Georgiana, 
herself  brightening. 

"For  which  I  like  her  better/'  he  replied,  and 
smiled,  perfectly  armed. 

"  Oh  !  is  it  because  I  am  a  woman  that  I  do  not 
understand  this  sort  of  friendship  ?  "  cried  Geor- 
giana. "  And  from  you,  Merthyr,  to  a  gii'l  such  as 
she  is  !  Me  she  satisfies  less  and  less.  You  speak 
of  force  of  heart,  as  if  it  were  manifested  in  an 
abandonment  of  personal  will.'' 

"  No,  my  darling,  but  in  the  strong  conception  of 
a  passion."' 

"  Yes  ;  if  she  had  discriminated,  and  fixed  upon  a 
worthy  object !  " 

"  That,"  rejoined  Merthyr,  *'  is  akin  to  the  doc- 
trine of  justification  by  success." 

"You  seek  to  foil  me  T\dth  sophisms,"  said 
Georgiana,  warming.  "  A  woman — even  a  girl — 
should  remember  what  is  due  to  herself.  You 
are  attracted  by  a  passionate  nature — 1  mean,  men 
are." 

"  The  general  instance,"  assented  Merthyr. 

"  Then,  do  you  never  reflect,"  pursued  Geor- 
giana, "  on  the  composition  and  the  elements  of  that 

u  2 


164  EMILIA   IN  ENGLAXD. 

sort  of  nature  ?  I  liave  tried  to  think  the  best  of  it. 
It  seems  to  me  still — no,  not  contemptible  at  ail- 
but  selfishness  is  the  groundwork  of  it ;  a  brilliant 
selfishness,  I  admit.  I  see  that  it  shows  its  best 
feature,  but  is  it  the  nobler  for  that  ?  I  think, 
and  I  must  think,  that  excellence  is  a  point  to  be 
reached  only  by  unselfishness,  and  that  usefulness  is 
the  test  of  excellence." 

*'  Before  there  has  been  any  trial  of  her  ?  "  asked 
Merthyr.  "  Have  you  not  been  a  little  too  eager  to 
put  the  test  to  her  ?  " 

Georgiana  reluctantly  consented  to  have  her 
argument  attached  to  a  single  person.  "  She  is  not 
a  child,  Merthyr." 

"  Ay ;  but  she  should  be  thought  one." 

''  I  confess  I  am  utterly  at  sea,"  Georgiana 
sighed.  "  Will  you  at  least  allow  that  sordid  selfish- 
ness does  less  mischief  than  this  *i)assion'  jon 
admire  so  much  ?  " 

"  I  will  allow  that  she  may  do  herself  more  mis- 
chief than  if  she  had  the  opposite  vice  of  avarice — 
anything  you  will,  of  that  complexion." 

"  And  why  should  she  be  regarded  as  a  child  ?  " 
asked  Georgiana,  piteously. 

"  Because,  if  she  has  outnumbered  the  years  of  a 
child,  she  is  no  further  advanced  than  a  child,  owing 


THE    CALL   TO   ACTION.  165 

to  what  she  has  to  get  rid  of.  She  is  overburdened 
"with  sensations  that  set  her  head  on  fire.  Her 
solid,  firm,  and  gentle  heart  keeps  her  balanced,  so 
long  as  there  is  no  one  playing  on  it.  That  a  fool 
should  be  doing  so,  is  scarcely  her  fault." 

Georgiana  murmured  to  herself,  "  He  is  not  a 
fool."  She  said,  "  I  do  see  a  certain  truth  in  what 
you  sa}^  dear  Merthyr.  But  I  have  been  disap- 
pointed in  her.  I  have  taken  her  among  my  poor. 
She  listens  to  their  tales,  without  sympathy.  I  took 
her  into  a  sick-room.  She  stood  by  a  dying  bed 
like  a  statue.  Her  remark  w^hen  we  came  into  the 
air  was,  '  Death  seems  easy,  if  it  were  not  so 
stifling ! '  Herself  always  !  herself  the  centre  of 
what  she  sees  and  feels  !  And  again,  she  has  no 
active  desire  to  do  good  to  any  mortal  thing.  A 
l)assive  wish  that  everybody  should  be  happy,  I 
know  she  has.  Few  have  not.  She  would  give 
money  if  she  had  it.  But  this  is  among  the 
mysteries  of  Providence  to  me,  that  one  so  indiffe- 
rent to  others  should  be  gifted  with  so  inexplicable 
a  power  of  attraction." 

Merthyr  put  this  case  to  her  :  "  Suppose  you  saw 
any  of  the  poor  souls  you  wait  on  lying  sick  with 
fever,  would  it  be  just  to  describe  the  character  of 
one  so  situated  as  fretful,  ungrateful,  of  rambling 


166  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

tongue,  poor  in  liealtli,  and  generally  of  loose  con- 
dition of  mind  ?  " 

"There,  again,  is  that  foreign  doctrine  .which 
exults  in  the  meanest  triumphs  by  getting  the  thesis 
granted  that  we  are  animals — only  animals!" 
Georgiana  burst  out.  "  You  argue  that  at  this 
season  and  at  that  season  she  is  helpless.  If  she  is 
a  human  creature,  must  she  not  have  a  mind  to 
govern  those  conditions  ?  " 

"And  a  mind,"  Merthyr  took  her  up,  "  specially 
experienced,  armed,  and  alert  to  be  a  safeguard  to 
her  at  the  most  critical  period  of  her  life !  Oh, 
yes  !  Whether  she  '  must '  have  it  is  one  thing ; 
but  no  one  can  contest  the  value  of  such  a  jewel  to 
any  young  person." 

Georgiana  was  silenced ;  and  knew  later  that 
she  had  been  silenced  by  a  fallacy.  For,  is  j^outh 
the  most  critical  period  of  life  ?  Neither  brother 
nor  sister,  however,  were  talking  absolutely  for  the 
argument.  Beneath  this  dialogue,  the  current  in 
her  mind  pressed  to  elicit  some  avowal  of  his  per- 
sonal feeling  for  the  girl,  towards  whom  Georgiana's 
disposition  was  kindlier  than  her  words  might  lead 
one  to  think.  He,  on  the  other  hand,  talked  with 
the  distinct  object  of  disguising  his  feelings  under 
a  tone  of  moderate  friendship  for  Emilia  that  was 


THE    CALL   TO   ACTION.  167 

capable  of  excusiog  her.  A  sensitive  man  of  thirty 
odd  years  does  not  loudly  proclaim  his  appreciation 
of  a  gii-1  under  twenty :  moreover,  Merthyr  wished 
to  spare  his  sister. 

He  thought  of  questioning  Eobert,  the  coachman, 
■whether  any  one  had  visited  the  carriage  during  his 
five  minutes'  absence  from  it :  but  ^MerthjTS  pecu- 
liar Welsh  delicacy  kept  him  from  doing  that,  hard 
as  it  was  to  remain  in  doubt  and  endure  the  little 
poisoned  shafts  of  a  suspicion. 

In  the  morning  there  was  a  letter  from  Marini  on 
the  breakfast  table.  Merthyr  glanced  down  the 
contents.  His  countenance  flashed  with  a  marvel- 
lous hght.  "Where  is  she?"  he  said,  looking 
keenly  for  Emiha. 

Emiha  came  in  from  the  garden. 
"  Xow,  my  Sandra !  "  cried  Merthyr,  waving  the 
letter  to  her ;  "  can  you  pack  up,  to  start  in  an 
hour  ?  There's  work  coming  on  for  us,  and  I  shall 
be  a  boy  again,  and  not  the  drum- stick  I  am  in 
this  country.  I  have  a  letter  from  Marini.  All 
Lombardy  is  prepared  to  rise,  and  tliis  time  the 
business  will  be  done.  Marini  is  off  for  Genoa. 
Under  the  orange-trees,  my  Sandra !  and  looking  on 
the  bay,  singing  of  Italy  free  !  " 

Emilia  fell  back  a  step,  eyeing  him  with  a  grave 


168  EMILIA   IN   ENGLA2N-D. 

expression  of  wonder,  as  if  she  beheld  another 
being  from  the  one  she  had  hitherto  known.  The 
cahn  Englishman  had  given  place  to  a  volcanic 
spirit. 

*'  Isn't  that  the  sketch  we  made  ?  "  he  resumed. 
"  The  plot's  perfect.  I  detest  conspiracies,  but  we 
must  use  what  weapons  we  can,  and  be  Old  Mole,  if 
they  trample  us  in  the  earth.  Once  up,  we  have 
Turin  to  back  us.  This  I  know.  AVe  shall  have 
nothing  but  the  Tedeschi  to  manage :  and  if  they 
beat  us  in  cavalry,  it's  certain  that  they  can't  rely 
on  their  light  horse.  The  Magyars  would  break  in 
a  charge.  We  know  that  they  icill.  As  for  the 
rest : — 

*  Soldati  settentriouali, 
Come  sarebbe  Boemi  e  Croati,' 

we  are  a  match  for  them !  Artillery  we  shall 
get.  The  Piedmontese  are  mad  for  the  signal. 
Come ;  sit  and  eat.  The  air  seems  dead  down  in 
this  quiet  country;  we're  out  of  the  stream.  I 
must  rush  up  to  London  to  breathe,  and  then  we 
won't  lose  a  moment.  We  shall  be  in  Italy  in  four 
days.  Four  days,  my  Sandra  !  And  Italy  going  to 
be  free  !  Georgey,  I'm  fasting.  And  you  will  see 
aU  your  old  friends.  All  ?  Good  God  !  No  ! — 
not  all !     Their  blood  shall  nerve  us.     The  Austrian 


THE    CALL   TO   ACTION.  1G9 

thinks  he  wastes  us  by  slaughter.  AVith  every  dead 
man  he  doubles  the  life  of  the  living  I  Am  I 
talking  like  a  foreigner,  Sandra  mia  ?  My  child, 
you  don't  eat !  And  I,  who  dreamed  last  night  that 
I  looked  out  over  Novara  from  the  height  of  the 
Col  di  Colma,  and  saw  the  plain  under  a  red  shadow 
from  a  huge  eagle  !  " 

MerthjT  laughed,  swinging  round  his  arm.  Emilia 
continued  staring  at  him  as  at  a  man  transformed, 
while  Georgiana  asked :  "  May  Marini's  letter  be 
seen  ?  "  Her  visage  had  become  firm  and  set  in 
proportion  as  her  brother's  excitement  increased. 

"  Eat,  my  Sandra  !  eat ! "  called  Merthyr,  who 
was  himself  eating  with  a  campaigning  appetite. 

Georgiana  laid  down  the  letter  folded  under 
Merthyr's  fijigers,  keeping  her  hand  on  it  till  he 
grew  alive  to  her  meaning,  that  it  should  be  put 
away. 

"  Marini  is  vague  about  artillery,"  she  mur- 
mured. 

''Vague!"  echoed  Merthyr.  ''Say  prudent.  If 
he  said  we  could  lay  hand  on  fifty  pieces,  then 
distrust  him ! " 

"  God  grant  that  this  be  not  another  pit  for 
further  fruitless  bloodshed  ! "'  was  the  interjection 
standing  in  Georgiana's  eyes,  and  then  she  dropped 


170  EMILIA   m   ENGLAKD. 

tiiem  i)ensively,  while  MerthjT  recounted  the  patient 
schemes  that  had  led  to  this  hour,  the  unuttered 
anxieties  and  the  bursting  hopes. 

Still  Emilia  kept  her  distressfully  unenthusiastie 
looks  turned  from  one  to  the  other,  though  her  Italy 
was  the  theme.  She  did  not  eat,  but  had  dropped 
one  hand  flat  on  her  plate,  looking  almost  idiotic. 
She  heard  of  Italy  as  of  a  distant  place,  known  to 
her  in  ancient  years.  Merthyr's  transformation, 
too,  helped  some  form  of  illusion  in  her  brain  that 
she  was  cut  off  from  any  kindred  feeliug  with  other 
people. 

As  soon  as  he  had  finished,  Merthyr  jumped  up  ; 
and  coming  round  to  Emilia,  touched  her  shoulder 
affectionately^  saying :  "  Now !  There  won't  be 
much  packing  to  do.  'We  shall  be  in  London  to- 
night in  time  for  your  mother  to  j)ass  the  evening 
with  you." 

Emilia  rose  straightway,  and  her  eyes  fell  vacantly 
on  Georgiana  for  help,  as  far  as  they  could  express 
anything. 

Georgiana  gave  no  response,  save  a  look  well 
nigh  as  vacant  in  the  interchange. 

"  But  you  haven't  eaten  at  all !  "  said  Merthyr. 

Emilia  shook  her  head.     "  Xo." 

"  Eat,  my  Sandra  !  to  please  me  !     You  will  need 


THE    CALL   TO   ACTION.  171 

all  3^oiir  strength  if  jon  Avould  be  a  match  for 
George}"  anywhere  where  there's  action." 

"  Yes  ! "  Emilia  traversed  his  words  with  a  sudden 
outer}'.  *'  Yes,  I  will  go  to  London.  I  am  ready  to 
go  to  London  now.'*' 

It  was  clear  that  a  new  hght  had  fallen  on  her 
intelligence. 

Merthyr  was  satisfied  to  see  her  sit  down  to  the 
table,  and  he  at  once  went  out  to  issue  dii'ections 
for  the  first  ste^^  in  the  new  and  momentous 
expedition. 

Emilia  put  the  bread  to  her  mouth,  and  crumbled 
it  on  a  dry  lip  :  but  it  was  evident  to  Georgiana, 
hostile  witness  as  she  was,  that  Emiha's  mind 
was  gradually  warming  to  what  Meii:hyr  had  said, 
and  that  a  picture  was  passing  before  the  girl. 
She  perceived  also  a  thing  that  no  misery  of  her 
own  had  yet  drawn  from  Emilia.  It  was  a  tear 
that  fell  heavily  on  the  back  of  her  hand.  Soon 
the  tears  came  in  quick  succession,  vrhile  the  girl 
tried  to  eat,  and  bit  at  salted  morsels.  It  was  a 
strange  sight  for  Georgiana,  this  statuesque  weeping, 
that  got  human  bit  by  bit,  till  the  bosom  heaved 
long  sobs  :  and  yet  no  turn  of  the  head  for  sym- 
pathy; nothing  but  a  passionless  shedding  of  big 
tear-drops  ! 


172  EMILIA   m  ENGLAND. 

She  went  to  the  girl,  and  put  her  hand  upon  her ; 
kissed  her,  and  then  said  :  "  We  have  no  time  to 
lose.  My  brother  never  delays  when  he  has  come 
to  a  resolve." 

Emilia  tried  to  articulate  :  "  I  am  ready." 

''  But  you  have  not  eaten  !  " 

Emilia  made  a  mechanical  effort  to  eat. 

"  Bemember,"  said  Georgiana,  "  we  have  a  long 
distance  to  go.  You  will  want  your  strength.  You 
would  not^  be  a  burden  to  him  ?  Eat,  while  I  get 
your  things  ready."  And  Georgiana  left  her,  secretly 
elated  to  feel  that  in  this  expedition  it  was  she,  and 
she  alone,  who  was  Merthyr's  mate.  "What  storm 
it  was,  and  what  conflict,  agitated  the  girl  and 
stupified  her,  she  cared  not  to  guess,  now  that  she 
had  the  suitable  designation,  '  savage,'  confirmed  in 
all  her  acts,  to  apply  to  her. 

When  Tracy  Runningbrook  came  down  at  his 
ordinary  hour  of  noon  to  breakfast,  he  found  a  little 
twisted  note  from  Georgiana,  telling  him  that  im- 
portant matters  had  summoned  MerthjT  to  London, 
and  that  they  were  all  to  be  seen  at  Lady  Gosstre's 
town-house. 

"  I  believe,  by  Jingo  !  Powys  manoeuvres  to  get 
her  away  from  me,''  he  shouted,  and  sat  down  to  his 
breakfast  and  his  book  with  a  comforted  mind.     It 


THE    CALL   TO   ACTION.  173 

was  not  Georgiana  to  whom  lie  alludecl ;  but  the 
appearance  of  Captain  Gambler,  and  the  pronounced 
discomposm-e  visible  in  the  handsome  face  of  the 
Captain  on  his  hearing  of  the  departure,  led  Tracy 
to  think  that  Georgiana's  absence  was  properly 
deplored  by  another,  though  that  other  was  said  to 
be  engaged.     '  On  revient  toujours,'  he  hummed. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

CONTAINS    A   FUETHER    VIEW    OF    SENTIMENT. 

Three  da3'S  passed  as  a  running  dream  to  Emilia. 
During  that  period  she  might  have  been  hurried  off 
to  Italy  vrithout  uttering  a  remonstrance.  Merthyr's 
spirited  talk  of  the  country  she  called  her  own ;  of 
its  heroic  youth  handed  to  rise,  and  sworn  to 
liberate  it  or  die ;  of  good  historic  names  borne  by 
men,  his  comrades,  in  old  campaigning  adventures ; 
and  stories  and  incidents  of  those  past  days — all 
given  with  his  changed  face,  and  changed,  ringing 
voice,  almost  moved  her  to  plunge  forgetfully  into 
this  new  tumultuous  stream  :  while  the  picture  of 
the  beloved  land,  lying  shrouded  beneath  the  perilous 
star  it  was  about  to  follow  grew  in  her  mmd. 

"  Shall  I  go  with  the  army  ?  "  she  asked  Geor- 
giana. 

"  No,  my  child ;  you  will  simply  go  to  school," 
was  the  cold  reply. 

"To  school!"  Emilia  throbbed,  "while  they  are 
fighting ! " 


CONTAINS   A   FUETHER   VIEW    OF   SENTIMENT.    175 

"  To  the  academy.  My  brother's  first  thought  is 
to  further  your  progress  in  art.  When  your  artistic 
education  is  complete,  you  will  choose  your  own 
course." 

"  He  knows,  he  knows  that  I  have  no  voice  ! " 
Emilia  struck  her  lap  with  twisted  fingers.  *'My 
voice  is  thick  in  my  throat.  If  I  am  not  to  march 
with  him,  I  can't  go  ;  I  vdll  not  go.  I  want  to  see 
the  fight.  You  have.  Why  should  I  keep  away  ? 
Could  I  run  up  notes,  even  if  I  had  any  voice,  while 
he  is  in  the  cannon-smoke  ?  " 

"  While  he  is  in  the  cannon-smoke  !  "  Georgiana 
revolved  the  line  thoughtfully.  "  You  are  aware 
that  my  brother  looks  forward  to  the  recovery  of 
your  voice,"  she  said. 

"  My  voice  is  like  a  dead  serpent  in  my  throat," 
rejoined  Emilia.  "My  voice!  I  have  forgotten 
music.  I  lived  for  that,  once ;  now  I  live  for 
nothing,  only  to  take  my  chance  everywhere  with 
my  friend.  I  want  to  smell  powder.  My  father 
says  it  is  salt,  like  the  taste  of  blood,  and  is  like 
wine  when  you  smell  it.  I  have  heard  him  shout 
for  it.  I  will  go  to  Italy,  if  I  may  go  where  my 
friend  Merthyr  goes ;  but  nothing  can  keep  me  shut 
up  now.  My  head's  a  wilderness  when  I'm  in 
houses.      I  can  scarcely  bear   to    hear    this    Lon- 


176  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

don  noise,  without  going  out  and  walking  till  I 
drop." 

Coming  to  a  knot  in  lier  meditation,  Georgiana 
concluded  tliat  Emilia's  lieart  was  warming  to 
Mertliyr.     She  was  speedily  doubtful  again. 

These  two  delicate  "Welsh  natures,  as  exacting  as 
the}^  were  delicate,  were  little  pleased  with  Emilia's 
silence  concerning  her  intercourse  with  AYilfrid. 
Merthyr,  who  had  expressed  in  her  defence  what 
could  be  said  for  her,  was  unwittingly  cherishing 
what  could  be  thought  in  her  disfavour.  Neither 
of  them  hit  on  the  true  cause,  Avhich  lay  in  Geor- 
giana's  coldness  to  her.  One  little  pressure  of  her 
hand,  carelessly  given,  made  Merthyr  better  aware 
of  the  nature  he  was  dealing  with.  He  was  telling 
her  that  a  further  delay  might  keep  them  in  London 
for  a  week ;  and  that  he  had  sent  for  her  mother  to 
come  to  her. 

"  I  must  see  my  mother,"  she  had  said,  excitedly. 
The  extension  of  the  period  named  for  quitting 
England  made  it  more  imminent  in  her  imagination 
than  when  it  was  a  matter  of  hours.  "I  must 
see  her." 

"I  have  sent  for  her,"  said  Merthyr,  and  then 
pressed  Emilia's  hand.  But  she  who,  without 
having  brooded  complaints  of  its  absence,  thirsted 


CONTAINS   A  FURTHER   VIEW   OF   SENTBIENT.    177 

for   demonstrative   kindness,   clung    to    the    hand, 

drawing  it,  douhled,  against  her  chin. 

-   "  That  is  not  the  reason,"  she  said,  raising  her 

full  eyes  up  at  him  over  the  unrelinquished  hand. 

"  I   love    the    poor    Madre ;    let    her    come ;    but 

I  have  no  heart   for   her  just  now.     I   have   seen 

Wilfrid." 

She  took  a  tighter  hold  of  his  fingers,  as 
fearing  he  might  shrink  from  her.  MerthjT 
hated  mysteries,  so  he  said,  "  I  supposed  it  must 
have  been  so — that  night  of  our  return  from 
Penarvon?" 

"  Yes,"  she  murmured,  while  she  read  his  face  for 
a  shadow  of  a  repulsion ;  "  and,  my  friend,  I  cannot 
go  to  Italy  now  !  " 

Merthyr  immediately  drew  a  seat  beside  her.  He 
perceived  that  there  would  be  no  access  to  her 
reason,  even  as  he  was  on  the  point  of  address- 
ing it. 

"  Then  all  my  care  and  trouble  are  to  be  thrown 
away  ? "  he  said,  taking  the  short  road  to  her 
feelings. 

She  put  the  hand  that  was  disengaged  softly  on 
his  shoulder.  "  No  ;  not  thrown  away.  Let  me  be 
what  Merthyr  wishes  me  to  be  !  That  is  my  chief 
prayer." 

VOL.    III.  N 


178  EMILIA  IN  ENGLiVND. 

"  Why,  then,  will  you  not  do  what  Merthyr  wishes 
you  to  do  ?  " 

Emilia's  eyelids  shut,  while  her  face  still  fronted 
him. 

"  Oh  I  I  wiU  speak  all  out  to  you,"  she  cried. 
"Merthyr,  my  friend,   he  came  to   kiss  me  once, 

before .     I  have  only  just  understood  it !     He 

is  going  to  Austria.  He  came  to  touch  me  for  the 
last  time  before  his  hand  is  red  Tsdth  my  blood. 
Stop  him  from  going  !  I  am  ready  to  follow  you  : — 
I  can  hear  of  his  marrying  that  woman  : — Oh  !  I 
cannot  live  and  think  of  him  in  that  Austrian 
white  coat.  Poor  thing! — my  dear!  my  dear!'' 
And  she  turned  away  her  head. 

It  is  not  unnatural  that  Merthyr,  hearing  these 
soft  epithets,  should  disbelieve  in  the  implied  self- 
conquest  of  her  preceding  words.  He  had  no  clue 
to  make  him  guess  that  these  were  simply  old 
exclamations  of  hers  brought  to  her  lips  by  the 
"sorrowful  contrast  in  her  mind. 

*'  It  will  be  better  that  you  should  see  him,"  he 
said,  with  less  of  his  natural  sincerity ;  so  soon  are 
we  corrupted  by  any  suspicion  that  our  egoism 
prompts. 

"  Here  ?  "  And  she  hung  close  to  him,  open- 
lipped,  open-eyed,  open-eared,  as  if  (Georgiana  would 


CONTAINS   A  FURTHEK   VIEW   OF   SENTIMENT.     179 

tliink  it,  tliouglit  MerthjT)  lier  savage  senses 
had  laid  the  trap  for  this  proposition,  and  now 
sprung  ui)  keen  for  theii*  prey.  ' '  Here,  Merthyr  ? 
Yes  !  let  me  see  him.  You  will !  Let  me  see  him, 
for  he  cannot  resist  me.  He  tiies.  He  thinks  he 
does :  but  he  cannot.  I  can  stretch  out  my  finger 
— I  can  put  it  on  the  day  when,  if  he  has  gal- 
lopped  one  way  he  will  gallop  another.  Let  him 
come." 

She  held  up  both  her  hands  in  petition,  half 
dropping  her  eyelids,  with  a  shadowy  beaut}'. 

In  MerthjT's  present  view,  the  idea  of  Wilfrid 
being  in  ranks  opposed  to  him  was  so  little  provo- 
cative of  intense  dissatisfaction,  that  it  was  out  of 
his  power  to  believe  that  Emilia  craved  to  see  him 
simpl}'  to  dissuade  the  man  from  the  obnoxious 
step. 

"Ah,  well  I  See  him;  see  him,  if  you  must,""  he 
said.     ''  Arrange  it  with  my  sister." 

He  quitted  the  room,  shrinking  from  the  sound 
of  her  thanks,  and  still  more  from  the  consciousness 
of  his  torment. 

The  busmess  that  detained  him  was  to  get  money 
for  Marini.  Georgiana  placed  her  fortune  at  his 
disposal  a  second  time.  There  was  liis  own,  which 
he  deemed  it  no  excess  of  chivalry  to  fling  into  the 

N    2 


180  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

gulf.  The  two  sat  together,  arranging  what  ^oro- 
perty  should  be  sold,  and  how  they  w^ould  share  the 
sacrifice  in  common.  Georgiana  pressed  him  to 
dispose  of  a  little  estate  belonging  to  her,  that 
money  might  immediately  be  raised.  They  talked 
as  they  sat  over  the  fire  towards  the  dusk  of  the 
winter  evening. 

"  You  would  not  have  refused  me  once,  Merthyr ! " 

"  When  you  were  a  child,  and  I  hardly  better 
than  a  boy.  Now  it's  different.  Let  mine  go  first, 
Georgey.  You  may  have  a  husband,  who  will  not 
look  on  these  things  as  we  do." 

"  How  can  I  love  a  husband  !  "  was  all  she  said ; 
and  Merthyr  took  her  in  his  arms.  His  gaiety  had 
gone. 

"  We  can't  go  dancing  into  a  pit  of  this  sort," 
he  sighed,  partly  to  baffle  the  scrutiny  he  appre- 
hended in  her  silence.  "  The  garrison  at  Milan  is 
doubled,  and  I  hear  they  are  marching  troops 
through  the  Tyrol.  Some  alerte  has  been  given,  and 
probably  some  traitors  exist.  One  w^ouldn't  like  to 
be  shot  like  a  dog!  You  haven't  forgotten  poor 
Tarani  ?  I  heard  yesterday  of  the  girl  who  calls 
herself  his  widow." 

"  They  were  betrothed,  and  she  is  ! "  exclaimed 
Georgiana. 


CONTAINS    A   FURTHER    VIEW    OF    SENTIMENT.     181 

"  Well,  there's  a  case  of  a  man  who  had  two 
loves — a  woman  and  his  country ;  and  both  true 
to  him  ! " 

"  And  is  he  so  singular,  Merthyr  ?  " 

*'  No,  my  best !  my  sweetest !  my  heart's  rest ! 
no  ! " 

They  exchanged  tender  smiles. 

"  Tarani's  bride — beloved  !  you  can  listen  to  such 
matters — she  has  undertaken  her  task.  AYho  im- 
posed it  ?  I  confess  I  faint  at  the  thought  of 
things  so  sad  and  shameful.  But  I  dare  not  sit  in 
judgment  on  a  people  suffering  as  they  are.  Out- 
rage upon  outrage  they  have  endured,  and  that 
deadens — or  rather  makes  their  heroism  unscru- 
pulous. Tarani's  bride  is  one  of  the  few  fair  girls 
of  Italy.  We  have  a  lock  of  her  hair.  She  shore 
it  close  the  morning  her  lover  was  shot,  and 
wore  the  thin  white  skull-cap,  you  remember, 
until  it  was  whispered  to  her  that  her  beauty  must 
serve." 

"  I  have  the  lock  now  in  my  desk,"  said  Georgiana, 
beginning  to  tremble.  "  Do  you  wish  to  look  at 
it?" 

"  Yes  ;  fetch  it,  my  darling." 

He  sat  eyeing  the  firelight  till  she  returned,  and 
then  taking  the  long  golden  lock  in  his  hand,  he 


182  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

squeezed  it,  full  of  bitter  memories  and  sorrowful- 
ness. 

"  Giulietta  ?  "  breathed  his  sister. 

"  I  would  put  my  life  on  the  truth  of  that  woman's 
love.     Well ! " 

''Yes?" 

"  She  abandons  herself  to  the  commandant  of  the 
citadel." 

A  low  outcry  burst  from  Georgiana.  She  fell  at 
Merthyr's  knees,  sobbing  violently.  He  let  her  sob. 
In  the  end  she  struggled  to  speak. 

"  Oh !  can  it  be  permitted  ?  Oh !  can  we  not 
save  her  ?  Oh,  poor  soul !  my  sister !  Is  she 
blind  to  her  lover  in  Heaven  ?  " 

Georgiana's  face  was  dyed  with  shame. 

"  We  must  put  these  things  by,"  said  Merthyr. 
"Go  to  Emilia  presently,  and  tell  her — settle  with 
her  as  you  think  fitting,  how  she  shall  see  Wilfrid 
Pole.  I  have  promised  her  she  shall  have  her 
wish." 

Coloured  by  the  emotion  she  was  burning  from, 
these  words  smote  Georgiana  with  a  mournful 
compassion  for  Merthyr. 

He  had  risen,  and  by  that  she  knew  that  nothing 
could  be  said  to  alter  his  will. 

A  sentimental  pair  likewise,  if  you  please;    but 


CONTAINS   A   FUETHER    VIEW   OF    SENTDIENT.     183 

these  were  sentimentalists  who  served  an  active 
deity,  and  not  that  arbitrary  projection  of  a  subtle 
selfishness  which  rules  the  fairer  portion  of  our  fat 
England. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

BETWEEN    EMILIA   AND    GEOEGIANA. 

"My  brother  teUs  me  it  is  jouv  wish  to  see 
Mr.  Wilfrid  Pole." 

Emilia's  "  Yes "  came  faintly  in  answer  to 
Georgiana's  cold  accents. 

"  Have  you  considered  what  you  are  doing  in 
expressing  such  a  desire  ?  " 

Another  "  Yes  "  was  heard  from  under  an  unlifted 
head : — a  culprit  affirmative,  whereat  the  just  take 
fire. 

"  Be  honest,  Emilia.  Seek  counsel  and  guidance 
to-night,  as  you  have  done  before  with  me,  and 
profited,  I  think.  If  I  write  to  bid  him  come,  what 
wiU  it  mean  ?  " 

"  Nothing  more,"  breathed  Emilia. 

"  To  him — for  in  his  way  he  seems  to  care  for 
you  fitfully — it  will  mean — stop  !  hear  me.  The 
words  you  si)eak  will  have  no  part  of  the  meaning, 
even  if  you  restrain  your  tongue.  To  him  it  will 
imply   that   his   power   over   you   is   unaltered.     I 


BETWEEN   EMILIA   AND    GEORGIANA.  185 

suppose  that  the  task  of  making  you  perceive  the 
effect  it  really  will  have  on  you  is  hopeless." 

"  I  have  seen  him,  and  I  know,"  said  Emilia,  in  a 
corresponding  tone. 

"  You  saw  him  that  night  of  our  return  from 
Penarvon  ?  Judge  of  him  by  that.  He  would  not 
spare  you.  To  gratify  I  know  not  what  wildness  in 
his  nature,  he  did  not  hesitate  to  open  your 
old  wound.  And  to  what  pui'pose  ?  A  freak  of 
passion  ! " 

"He  could  not  help  it.  I  told  him  he  would 
come,  and  he  came." 

"  This,  possibly,  you  call  love  ;  do  you  not  ?  " 

Emilia  was  about  to  utter  a  plain  affirmative,  but 
it  was  checked.  The  novelty  of  the  idea  of  its  not 
being  love  arrested  her  imagination. 

"  If  he  comes  to  you  here,"  resumed  Geor- 
giana — 

"  He  must  come  !  "  cried  Emilia. 

"  My  brother  has  sanctioned  it,  so  his  coming  or 
not  will  rest  with  him.  If  he  comes,  let  me  know 
the  good  that  you  think  will  result  from  an  interview  ? 
Ah  !  you  have  not  weighed  that  question.  Do  so  : — 
or  you  give  no  heed  to  it  ?  In  any  case,  try  to  look 
into  your  own  breast.  You  were  not  born  to  live 
unworthily.     You  can  be,  or  will  be,  if  you  follow 


186  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

your  better  star,  self-denying  and  noble.  Do  you 
not  love  your  country  ?  Judge  of  this  love  by 
that.  Your  love,  if  you  have  this  power  over  him,  is 
merely  a  madness  to  him ;  and  his — what  has  it  done 
for  you  ?  If  he  comes,  and  this  begins  again,  there 
will  be  a  similar  if  not  the  same  destiny  for  you." 

Emilia  panted  in  her  reply.  "No;  it  will  not 
begin  again."  She  threw  out  both  arms,  shaking 
her  head.  "  It  cannot,  I  know.  What  am  I  now  ? 
It  is  what  I  was  that  he  loves.  He  will  not  know 
what  I  am  till  he  sees  me.  And  I  know  that  I 
have  done  things  that  he  cannot  forgive.  You  have 
forgiven  it,  and  Merthyr,  because  he  is  my  friend : 
but  I  am  sure  Wilfrid  will  not.  He  might  pardon  the 
poor  '  me,'  but  not  his  Emilia  !  I  shall  have  to  tell 
him  what  I  did  ;  so  "  (and  she  came"  closer  to  Geor- 
giana)  "  there  is  some  pain  for  me  in  seeing  him." 

Georgiana  was  not  proof  against  this  simplicity  of 
speech,  backed  by  a  little  dying  dimple,  which 
seemed  a  continuation  of  the  plain  sadness  of 
Emilia's  tone. 

She  said,  "  My  poor  child !  "  almost  fondly,  and 
then  Emilia  looked  in  her  face,  murmuring,  "  You 
sometimes  doubt  me." 

"  Not  3'our  truth,  but  the  accuracy  of  your  per- 
ceptions and  your  knowledge  of  your  real  designs. 


BETWEEN   EMILIA   AXD   GEORGIAN  A.  187 

You  are  certainly  decei\'ing  yourself  at  this  instant. 
In  the  first  place,  the  relation  of  that  madness — no, 
poor  child,  not  -^vickedness — but  if  you  tell  it  to 
him,  it  is  a  wilful  and  unnecessaiy  self-abasement. 
If  he  is  to  be  your  husband,  unburden  your  heart  at 
once.  Otherwise,  why  ?  why  ?  You  are  but  work- 
ing up  a  scene,  provoking  needless  excesses :  you 
are  storing  miserj^  in  retrospect,  or  wretchedness  to 
be  endured.  Had  you  the  habit  of  prayer!  By 
degrees  it  will  give  you  the  thirst  for  purity,  and 
that  makes  you  a  fountain  of  prayer,  in  v;hom  these 
bHnd  deceits  cannot  hide." 

Georgiana  paused  emphatically ;  as  when,  by  our 
unrolling  out  of  our  ideas,  we  have  more  thoroughly 
convinced  ourselves. 

"You  pray  to  Heaven,"  said  Emilia,  and  then 
faltered,  and  blushed.  "  I  must  be  loved  !  "  she 
cried.     "  AVill  you  not  put  your  arms  romid  me  ?  " 

Georgiana  drew  her  to  her  bosom,  bidding  her 
continue.  Emilia  lay  whispering  under  her  chin. 
*'  You  pray,  and  you  wish  to  be  seen  as  you  are,  do 
you  not  ?  You  do.  Well,  if  you  knew  what  love 
is,  you  would  see  it  is  the  same.  You  wish  him  to 
see  and  know  you :  you  wish  to  be  sure  that  he 
loves  nothing  but  exactly  you :  it  must  be  yourself. 
You  are  jealous  of  his  loving  an  idea  of  you  that  is 


188  EMLIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

not  you.  You  think,  *  He  will  wake  up  and  find  his 
mistake  : '  or  you  think,  *  That  kiss  was  not  in- 
tended for  me  : '  not  '  for  me  as  I  am.'  Those  are 
tortures !  " 

Her  discipline  had  transformed  her,  when  she 
could  utter  such  sentiments  as  these  ! 

Feeling  her  shudder,  and  not  knowing  how 
imagination  forestalls  experience  in  passionate 
blood,  Georgiana  said,  "  You  speak  like  one  who 
has  undergone  them.  But  now  at  least  you  liave 
thrown  off  the  mask.  You  love  him  still,  this  man ! 
And  with  as  little  strength  of  will !  Do  you  not  see 
impiety  in  the  comparison  you  have  made  ?  " 

"  Oh !  what  I  see  is,  that  I  wish  I  could  say  to 
him,  *  Look  on  me,  for  I  need  not  be  ashamed — I 
am  like  Miss  Ford  ! '  " 

The  young  lady's  cheeks  took  fire,  and  the  clear 
path  of  speech  becoming  confused  in  her  head,  she 
went  on,  '' Miss  Ford  V 

"  Georgiana,"  said  Emilia,  and  feeling  that  her 
friend's  cold  manner  had  melted  :  "  Georgey !  my 
beloved  !  my  darling  in  Italy,  where  we  will  go  !  I 
envy  no  woman  but  you  who  have  seen  my  dear 
ones  fight.  You  and  I,  and  Merthyr !  Nothmg  but 
Austrian  shot  shall  part  us." 

"  And  so  we  make  up  a  pretty  dream !  "   inter- 


BETWEEN    EMILL\   ^VXD    GEORGL^'A.  189 

jected  Georgiana.  "  The  Austrian  shot,  I  thmk, 
will  be  fired  by  one  who  is  now  in  the  Austrian 
service,  or  who  soon  will  be." 

"AVilfrid?"  EmiHa  called  out.  "No;  that  is 
what  I  am  going  to  stop.  Why  did  I  not  tell  you 
so  at  first  ?  But  I  never  know  what  I  say  or  do 
when  I  am  with  you,  and  everj^thing  seems  chance. 
I  want  to  see  him  to  prevent  him  from  doing  that. 
I  can." 

"  Why  should  you  ?  "  asked  Georgiana ;  and  one 
to  whom  the  faces  of  the  two  had  been  displayed  at 
that  moment  would  have  pronounced  them  a  hostile 
couple. 

"  Why  should  I  prevent  him  ?  "  Emilia  doled 
out  the  question  slowly,  and  gave  herself  no  further 
thought  of  replying  to  it. 

Apparently  Georgiana  understood  the  signifi- 
cation of  this  odd  silence :  she  was,  perhaps, 
touched  by  it.  She  said,  "  You  feel  that  you  have  a 
power  over  him.  You  wish  to  exercise  it.  Never 
mind  wherefore.  If  you  do — if  you  try,  and  succeed 
— if,  by  the  aid  of  this  love  presupposed  to  exist, 
you  win  him  to  what  you  requu'e  of  him — do  you 
honestly  think  the  love  is  then  immediately  to  be 
dropped  ? " 

Emilia    meditated.      She   caught    up    her   voice 


190  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

hastily.  "  I  tliiiik  so.  Yes.  I  hope  so.  I  mean 
it  to  be." 

"  With  a  noble  lover,  EmiUa.  Not  with  a 
selfish  one.  In  showing  him  the  belief  you  have 
in  your  jjower  over  him,  you  betray  that  he  has 
power  over  you.  And  it  is  to  no  object.  .  His 
family,  his  position,  his  prospects — all  tell  you  that 
he  cannot  marry  you,  if  he  w^oulcl.  And  he  is, 
besides,  engaged " 

"  Let  her  suffer  !  "  Emilia's  eyes  flashed. 

"  Ah  !  "  and  Georgiana  thought ;  "  Have  I  come 
upon  your  nature  at  last  ?  " 

However  it  might  be,  Emilia  was  determined  to 
show  it. 

*'  She  took  my  lover  from  me,  and  I  sa}^  let  her 
suffer !  I  would  not  hurt  her  myself — I  would  not  lay 
my  finger  on  her :  but  she  has  eyes  like  blue  stones, 
and  such  a  mouth ! — I  think  the  Austrian  executioner 
has  one  like  it.  If  she  suff'ers,  and  goes  all  dark 
as  I  did,  she  will  show  a  better  face.  Let  her  keep 
my  lover.  He  is  not  mine,  but  he  was;  and  she 
took  him  from  me.  That  woman  cannot  feed  on 
him  as  I  did.  I  know  she  has  no  hunger  for  love. 
He  will  look  at  those  blue  bits  of  ice,  and  think  of 
me.  I  told  him  so.  Did  I  not  tell  him  that  in 
Devon  ?     I  saw  her  eyelids  move  fast  as  I  spoke. 


BETWEEN   EMILIA   AXD    GEORGIAXA.  191 

I  think  I  look  on  winter  when  I  see  her  lips. 
Poor,  wretched  WHfrid  !  " 

Emilia  half-sohbed  this  exclamation  out.  ''  I 
don't  wish  to  hm't  either  of  them,"  she  added,  with 
a  smile  of  such  abrupt  opposition  to  her  words  that 
Georgiana  was  in  perplexity.  A  lady  who  has 
assumed  the  office  of  lecturer,  will,  in  such  a  frame 
of  mind,  lecture  on,  if  merely  to  vindicate  to  herself 
her  own  preconceptions.  Georgiana  laid  her  finger 
severely  upon  Wilfrid's  manifest  faults ;  and,  in 
fine,  she  spoke  a  great  deal  of  the  common  sense 
that  the  situation  demanded.  Nevertheless,  Emilia 
held  to  her  scheme.  But,  in  the  meantime,  Geor- 
giana had  seen  more  clearly  into  the  girl's  heart ; 
and  she  had  been  won,  also,  by  a  natural  graceful- 
ness that  she  now  perceived  in  her,  and  which  led 
her  to  think,  "  Is  Merthyr  again  to  show  me  that  he 
never  errs  in  liis  judgment  ?  "  An  unaccountable 
movement  of  tenderness  to  EmiKa  made  her  droj)  a 
few  kisses  on  her  forehead.  Emilia  shut  her  eyes, 
waiting  for  more.  Then  she  looked  up,  and  said, 
*'  Have  you  felt  this  love  for  me  very  long  ?  "  at 
which  the  puny  flame,  scarce  visible,  sprang  up,  and 
warmed  to  a  great  heat. 

"  My  own  Emilia !  Sandra  !  listen  to  me  :  promise 
me  not  to  seek  this  interview." 


192  EmLIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

"Will  you  always  love  me  as  much?"  Emilia 
bargained. 

"  Yes,  yes ;  I  never  vary.  It  is  my  love  for  you 
that  begs  you." 

EmiUa  fell  into  a  chair  and  propped  her  head 
behind  both  hands,  tapping  the  floor  briskly  ^Yith 
her  feet.  Georgiana  watched  the  conflict  going  on. 
To  decide  it  promptly,  she  said :  "  And  not  only 
shall  I  love  you  thrice  as  well,  but  my  brother 
Merthyr,  w4iom  you  call  your  friend — he  will — he 
cannot  love  you  better ;  but  he  will  feel  yon  to  be 
worthy  the  best  love  he  can  give.  There  is  a  heart, 
you  simple  girl !  He  loves  you,  and  has  never 
shown  any  of  the  pain  your  conduct  has  given  him. 
"When  I  say  he  loves  you,  I  tell  you  his  one 
weakness — the  only  one  I  have  discovered.  And 
judge  whether  he  has  shown  want  of  self-control 
while  5'ou  were  djdng  for  another.  Did  he  attempt 
to  thwart  you  ?  No  ;  to  strengthen  you ;  and  never 
once  to  turn  your  attention  to  himself.  That  is 
love.  Now,  think  of  w^hat  anguish  you  have  made 
him  pass  through :  and  think  whether  you  have 
ever  witnessed  an  alteration  of  kindness  in  his  face 
towards  you.  Even  now,  when  he  had  the  hope 
that  you  were  cured  of  your  foohsh  fruitless  affec- 
tion for  a  man  who  merely  played  with  you,  and 


BETWEEN   EMILIA   AND    GEORGIANA.  193 

cannot  give  up  the  habit,  even  now  he  hides  what 
he  feels " 

So  far  Emilia  let  her  speak  without  interruption  ; 
but  gradually  awakening  to  the  meaning  of  the 
words : 

"  For  me  ?  "  she  cried. 

*'  Yes  ;  for  you." 

"  The  same  sort  of  love  as  Wilfrid  feels  ?  " 

"  By  no  means  the  same  sort ;  but  the  love  of 
man  for  woman." 

"And  he  saw  me  when  I  was  that  wretched 
heap  ?  And  he  knows  everything !  and  loves  me. 
He  has  never  kissed  me." 

"  Does  that  miserable  test ?  "  Georgiana  was 

asking. 

"  Pardon,  pardon,"  went  on  Emilia,  penitently  :  "  I 
know  that  is  almost  nothing,  now\  I  am  not  a  child. 
I  spoke  from  a  sudden  feehng.     For  if  he  loves  me, 

how !     Oh,  Merthyr !    what  a  little  creature  I 

seem.  I  cannot  understand  it.  I  lose  a  brother. 
And  he  was  such  a  certainty  to  me.  What  did  he 
love — what  did  he  love,  that  night  he  found  me  on 
the  pier?  I  looked  like  a  creature  picked  off  a 
mud-bank.  I  felt  like  a  worm,  and  miserably 
abandoned,  I  was  a  shameful  sight.  Oh  !  how  can 
I  look  on  Merthyr  s  face  again  ?  " 

VOL.    III.  O 


194  EMILIA   IX   ENGLAND. 

In  these  interjections  Georgiana  did  not  observe 
the  proper  humility  and  abject  gratitude  of  a  young 
person  who  had  heard  that  she  was  selected  by  a 
prince  of  the  earth.  A  sort  of  '  Eastern  hand- 
maid' prostration,  with  joined  hands,  and,  above  all 
things,  a  closed  mouth,  the  lady  desiderated.  She 
half  regretted  the  revelation  she  had  made ;  and  to  be 
sure  at  once  that  she  had  reaped  some  practical  good, 
she  said:  "  I  need  scarce  ask  you  whether  3'ou  have 
come  to  a  right  decision  upon  that  other  question." 

"  To  see  Wilfrid  ?  "  said  Emilia.  She  appeared 
to  pause  musingly,  and  then  turned  to  Georgiana, 
showing  happy  features  :  "  Yes :  I  shall  see  him. 
I  must  see  him.  Let  him  know  he  is  to  come 
immediately." 

"  That  is  your  decision  ?  " 

''  Yes." 

"  After  what  I  have  told  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes ;  yes  !    AVrite  the  letter." 

Georgiana  chid  at  an  internal  wrath  that  struggled 
to  win  her  lips.  "  Promise  me  simply  that  what  I 
have  told  you  of  my  brother,  you  will  consider 
yourself  bound  to  keep  secret.  Y^ou  will  not  speak 
of  it  to  others,  or  to  him." 

Emilia  gave  the  promise,  but  with  the  thought ; 
"  To  him  ?— will  not  he  speak  of  it  ?  " 


BETWEEN   EMILIA   AND   GEOIlGL\NA.  195 

"  So,  then,  I  am  to  write  this  letter  ? "  said 
Georgiana. 

"  Do,  do ;  at  once  !  "  Emilia  put  on  her  sweetest 
look  to  plead  for  it. 

"  Decidedly  the  wisest  of  men  are  fools  in  this 
matter,"  Georgiana's  reflection  swam  upon  her 
anger. 

"  And  dearest !  m}^  Georgey  ! "  Emilia  insisted 
on  being  blunt  to  the  outward  indications  to  which 
she  was  commonly  so  sensitive  and  reflective  ;  "  my 
Georgey !  let  me  be  alone  tliis  evening  in  my  bed- 
room. The  little  Madre  comes,  and — and  I  haven't 
the  habit  of  being  respectful  to  her.  And,  I  must 
be  alone  !  Do  not  send  up  for  me,  whoever  wishes 
it." 

Georgiana  could  not  stop  her  tongue  :  "  Not  if 
Mr.  Wilfrid  Pole ?" 

"  Oh,  he !  I  will  see  him"  said  Emilia ;  and 
Georgiana  went  from  her  straightway. 


0  2 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

E^nLIA   BEGINS    TO    FEEL    MERTHYR's    POWER. 

Emilia  remained  locked  up  with  her  mother  all 
that  evening.  The  good  little  shiill  woman, 
tender-eyed  and  slatternly,  had  to  help  try  on 
dresses,  and  run  about  for  pins,  and  express  her 
critical  taste  in  undertones,  beheving  all  the  while 
that  her  daughter  had  given  up  music  to  go  mad 
with  vanity.  The  reflection  struck  her,  notwith- 
standing, that  it  was  a  "\\iser  thing  for  one  of  her 
sex  to  make  friends  among  rich  people  than  to 
marry  a  foreign  husband.  The  gui  looked  a  bril- 
liant woman  in  a  superb  Venetian  dress  of  purple 
velvet,  which  she  called  '  the  Branciani  dress,'  and 
once  attired  in  it,  and  the  rich  purfles  and  swellmg 
creases  over  the  shoulders  puffed  out  to  her  satisfac- 
tion, and  the  run  of  yellow  braid  about  it  properly 
inspected  and  flattened,  she  would  not  return  to  her 
more  homely  wear,  though  very  soon  her  mother 
began  to  whimper  and  say  that  she  had  lost  her  so 
long,  and  now  that  she  had  found  her   it   hardly 


EMILIA   BEGINS   TO   FEEL    MERTHYR's    POWER.    197 

seemed  the  same  child.  Emilia  would  listen  to  no 
entreaties  to  put  away  her  sumptuous  robe.  She 
silenced  her  mother  with  a  stamp  of  her  foot,  and 
then  sighed :  "  Ah !  AVhy  do  I  always  feel  such  a 
tyrant  "with  j'ou  ?  "  kissing  her. 

"  This  dress,"  she  said,  and  held  up  her  mother's 
chin  fondUngly  between  her  two  hands,  "  this  dress 
was  designed  by  my  friend  Merthyr — that  is,  -Mr. 
Powys — from  what  he  remembered  of  a  dress  worn 
by  Countess  Branciani,  of  Venice.  He  had  it  made 
to  give  to  me.  It  came  from  Paris.  Countess 
Branciani  was  one  of  his  dearest  friends.  I  feel 
that  I  am  twice  as  much  his  friend  with  this  on  me. 
Mother  !  it  seems  like  a  deep  blush  all  over  me.  I 
feel  as  if  I  looked  out  of  a  rose." 

She  spread  her  hands  to  express  the  flower 
magnified. 

"  Oh  !  wdiat  silly  talk,"  said  her  mother  :  "it  does 
turn  your  head,  this  dress  does  ! " 

"  I  wish  it  would  give  me  my  voice,  mother.  My 
father  has  no  hope.  I  wish  he  would  send  me  news 
to  make  me  happy  about  him ;  or  come  and  run  his 
finger  up  the  strings  for  hours,  as  he  used  to.  I 
have  fancied  I  heard  him  at  times,  and  I  had  a 
longing  to  follow  the  notes,  and  felt  sure  of  my 
semi-tones.      He    won't    see    me  !      Mother  !    he 


198  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

•would  think  something  of  me  if  he  saw  me 
now ! " 

Her  mother's  lamentations  reached  that  vocal 
pitch  at  last  which  Emilia  could  not  endure,  and  the 
little  lady  was  despatched  to  her  home  under  charge 
of  a  servant. 

Emilia  feasted  on  the  looking-glass  when  alone. 
Had  Merthyr,  in  restoring  her  to  health,  given  her 
an  overdose  of  the  poison  ? 

"  Countess  Branciani  made  the  Austrian  Gover- 
nor her  slave,"  she  uttered,  planting  one  foot  upon 
a  stool  to  lend  herself  height.  "  He  told  her  who 
were  suspected,  and  who  would  he  imprisoned,  and 
gave  her  all  the  State  secrets.  Beauty  can  do  more 
than  music.  I  wonder  whether  Merthyr  loved  her  ? 
He  loves  me  !  " 

Emilia  was  smitten  with  a  fear  that  he  would 
speak  of  it  when  she  next  saw  him.  "  Oh  !  I  hope 
he  will  be  just  the  same  as  he  has  been,"  she  sighed ; 
and  with  much  melancholj^  shook  her  head  at  her 
fair  reflection,  and  began  to  undress.  It  had  not 
struck  her  with  surprise  that  two  men  should  be 
loving  her,  until,  standing  aw^ay  from  the  purple 
folds,  she  seemed  to  grow  smaller  and  smaller,  as  a 
fii'e-log  robbed  of  its  flame,  and  felt  insufficient  and 
weak.     This  was  a  new  sensation.     She  depended 


EMILIA  BEGINS   TO   FEEL   MERTHYR's   POWER.    199 

no  more  on  her  own  vital  sincerity.  It  was  in  her 
nature,  doubtless,  to  crave  constantly  for  approval, 
but  in  the  service  of  personal  beauty  instead  of 
divine  Art,  she  found  herself  utterly  unwound 
without  it :  victim  of  a  sense  of  most  uncomfortable 
hoUowness.  She  was  glad  to  extinguish  the  candle 
and  be  covered  up  dark  in  the  circle  of  her  warmth. 
Then  her  young  blood  sang  to  her  again. 

An  hour  before  breakfast  every  morning  she  read 
with  Merthyr.  Now,  this  morning  how  was  she  to 
appear  to  him  ?  There  would  be  no  reading,  of 
coiu'se.  How  could  he  think  of  teaching  one  to 
whom  he  ti'embled.  Emiha  trusted  that  she  might 
see  no  change  in  him,  and,  above  all,  that  he  would 
not  speak  of  his  love  for  her.  Nevertheless,  she 
put  on  her  robe  of  conquest,  having  first  rejected 
with  distaste,  a  plainer  garb.  She  went  down  the 
stairs  slowly.  Merthyr  was  in  the  hbrary  awaiting 
her.  "  You  are  late,"  he  said,  eyeing  the  dress  as  a 
thing  apart  from  her,  and  remarking  that  it  was 
hardly  suited  for  morning  wear.  "  Yellow,  if  you 
must  have  a  strong  colom-,  and  you  wouldn't  exhibit 
the  schwai'tz-gelb  of  the  Tedeschi  willingly.  But, 
now  !" 

This   was   the    signal  for  the    reading   to   com- 
mence. 


200  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

"  Wilfrid  would  not  have  been  so  cold  to  me," 
thought  Emilia,  turning  the  leaves  of  Ariosto  as  a 
book  of  ashes.  Not  a  word  of  love  appeared  to 
be  in  his  mind.  This  she  did  not  regret ;  but  she 
thirsted  for  the  assuring  look.  His  eyes  were 
quietly  friendly.  So  friendly  was  he  that  he  blamed 
her  for  inattention,  and  took  her  once  to  task  about 
a  melodious  accent  in  which  she  vulgarised  the 
vowels.  All  the  flattery  of  the  Branciani  dress 
could  not  keep  Emilia  from  her  feeling  of  small- 
ness.  Was  it  possible  that  he  loved  her  ?  She 
watched  him  as  eagerly  as  her  sh3'ness  would  permit. 
Any  shadow  of  a  change  was  spied  for.  Getting  no 
softness  from  him,  or  superadded  kindness,  no 
shadow  of  a  change  in  that  direction,  she 
stumbled  in  her  reading  purposely,  to  draw  down 
rebuke  ;  her  construing  was  villanously  bad. 
He  told  her  so,  and  she  replied:  '^I  don't  like 
poetry."  But  seeing  him  exchange  Ariosto  for 
Boman  History,  she  murmured,  "  I  like  Dante." 
Merthyr  plunged  her  remorselessly  into  the  second 
Punic  war. 

But  there  was  worse  to  follow.  She  was  informed 
that  after  breakfast  she  would  be  called  upon  to 
repeat  the  principal  facts  she  had  been  reading  of. 
Emilia  groaned  audibly. 


EMILIA   BEGIN'S    TO    FEEL   MERTHYR's   POTVER.    201 

"  Take  the  book,"  said  Mei-tbyr. 

"  It's  so  heavy,"  she  complained. 

"  Heavy  ?  " 

"  I  mean,  to  carry  about." 

"  If  you  want  to  '  carry  it  about,'  the  boy  shall 
follow  you  with  it." 

She  understood  that  she  was  being  laughed  at. 
Languor,  coupled  with  the  consciousness  of  ridicule 
ovenvhelmed  her. 

"  I  feel  I  can't  learn,"  she  said. 

"  Feel,  that  you  must,"  was  repHed  to  her. 

"  Xo  ;  don't  take  any  more  trouble  with  me  !  " 

"  Yes  ;  I  expect  you  to  distinguish  Scipio  from 
Cicero,  and  not  make  the  mistake  of  the  other 
evening,  when  you  were  talking  to  Mrs.  Came- 
ron." 

Emilia  left  him,  abashed,  to  dread  shrewdly  their 
meeting  within  five  minutes  at  the  breakfast-table  ; 
to  di'ead  eating  under  liis  eyes,  with  doubts  of  the 
character  of  her  acts  generally.  She  was,  indeed, 
his  humble  scholar,  though  she  seemed  so  full  of 
weariness  and  revolt.  He,  however,  when  alone, 
looked  fixedly  at  the  door  through  which  she  had 
passed,  and  said,  "  She  loves  that  man  still. 
Similar  ages,  similar  tastes,  I  suppose  !  She  is 
dressed  to  be  readv  for  him.     She  can't  learn  :  she 


202  EMILIA  IN   ENGLAND. 

can  do  nothing.  My  work  mayn't  be  lost,  but  it's 
lost  for  me.'^ 

JMertli}^  did  not  know  that  Georgiana  had  be- 
trayed him,  but  in  no  case  would  he  have  given 
Emilia  the  signs  she  expected :  in  the  first  place, 
because  he  had  self-command;  and,  secondly, 
because  of  those  years  he  counted  in  advance  of 
her.  So  she  had  the  full  mystery  of  his  loving  her 
to  think  over,  without  a  spot  of  the  weakness  to 
fasten  on. 

Georgiana's  first  sight  of  Emilia  in  her  Branciani 
dress  shut  her  heart  against  the  girl  with  iron 
clasps.  She  took  occasion  to  remark,  "  We  need 
not  expect  visitors  so  very  early;  "  but  the  offender 
was  impervious.  Breakfast  finished,  the  reading 
with  Merthyr  recommenced,  when  Emiha,  havmg 
got  over  her  sm-prise  at  the  sameness  of  things  this 
day,  acquitted  herself  better,  and  even  declaimed 
the  verses  musically.  Seeing  him  look  pleased,  she 
spoke  them  out  sonorously.  Merthyr  applauded. 
Upon  which  Emiha  said,  with  odd  abruptness  and 
solemnity,  "Will  he  come  to-day?"  It  was 
beyond  Merthyr's  power  of  seK-control  to  consent 
to  be  taken  into  a  consultation  on  this  matter,  and 
he  attempted  to  put  it  aside.  "  He  may  or  he  may 
not — probably  to-morrow." 


E^HLIA   BEGINS    TO   FEEL   MERTHTR's    POWER.    203 

"  No ;  to-day,  in  the  afternoon,"  said  Emilia. 
"  Be  near  me." 

"  I  have  engagements." 

"  Some  word,  say,  that  will  seem  to  Le  you  T^itlime." 

"  Some  flattery,  or  you  won't  remember  it." 

"Yes,  Ilike  flattery." 

"Well,  3"ou  look  like  Countess  Branciani  when, 
after  thinking  her  husband  the  basest  of  men,  she 
discovered  him  to  be  the  noblest." 

Emilia  blushed.  "  That's  not  easily  forgotten ! 
But  she  must  have  looked  braver,  bolder,  not  so 
under  a  burden  as  I  feel." 

'''  The  comparison  was  meant  to  suit  the  moment 
of  your  reciting." 

"  Yes,"  said  Emilia,  half-mournfully,  "  then  '  my- 
self '  doesn't  sit  on  my  shoulders :  I  don't  even  care 
what  I  am." 

"  That  is  what  Ai't  does  for  you." 

"  Only  by  fits  and  stai-ts  now.  Once  I  never 
thought  of  myself." 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  street-door,  and  she 
changed  countenance.  Presently  there  came  a 
gentle  tap  at  their  own  door. 

"  It  is  that  woman,"  said  Emilia. 

"I  fancy  it  must  be  Lady  Chai'lotte.  You  wiU 
not  see  her  ?  " 


204  EMILIA   IN  ENGLAND. 

Merthyr  was  anticipating  a  negative,  but  Emilia, 
said,  "Let  her  come  in."  She  gave  her  hand 
to  the  lady,  and  was  much  the  least  concerned 
of  the  two.  Lady  Charlotte  turned  away  from  her 
briskly. 

"  Georgey  didn't  say  anything  of  you  in  her  letter, 
Mei-thjT.' ;  I  am  going  up  to  her,  but  I  wished  to 
satisfy  myself  that  you  were  in  toAm,  first : — to  save 
half  a  minute,  you  see !  I  anticipate  the  philosophic 
manly  sneer.  Is  it  really  true  that  j^ou  are  going  to 
mix  3'ourself  up  in  this  mad  Italian  business  again  ? 
Kow  that  you're  a  man,  my  dear  IMerthyr,  it  seems 
almost  inexcusable — for  a  sensible  Englishman  !  " 

Lady  Charlotte  laughed,  giving  him  her  hand  at 
the  same  time. 

"  Don't  you  know  I  swore  an  oath  ?  "  Merthyr 
caught  up  her  tone. 

"  Yes,  but  you  never  succeed.  I  complain  that 
you  never  succeed.  Of  what  use  on  earth  are  aU 
your  efforts  if  you  never  succeed  ?  " 

Emilia's  voice  burst  out : 

"  *  Piacemi  almen  che  i  miei  sospir  sien  quali 
Spera  '1  Tevero  e  1'  Amo, 
E  '1  Po, '  " 

Merthyr  continued  the  ode,  acting  a  similar 
fervour. 


EMILIA   BEGDsS    TO   FEEL   MERTHYR's    POWER.    205 

'  *  *  Ben  prov\'ide  Xatura  al  nostro  stato 
Quando  dell'  Alpi  schermo 
Pose  fra  noi  e  la  tedesca  rabbia.  * 

"  We  are  merely  bondsmen  to  the  re -establish- 
ment of  the  provisions  of  nature." 

"And  we  know  we  shall  succeed!"  said  Emilia, 
permitting  her  antagonism  to  pass  forth  in  irritable 
emphasis. 

Lady  Charlotte  quickly  left  them  to  run  up  to 
Georgiana.  She  was  not  long  in  the  house. 
Emilia  hung  near  Merthyr  all  day,  and  she  was 
near  him  when  the  knock  was  heard  which  she 
could  suppose  to  be  Wilfrid's,  as  it  proved. 
Wilfrid  was  ushered  in  to  Georgiana.  Delicacy 
had  prevented  Merthyr  from  taking  special  notice 
to  Emilia  of  Lady  Charlotte's  visit,  and  he  treated 
Wilfrid's  similarly,  saying,  '*  Georgey  will  send 
down  word." 

"  Only,  don't  leave  me  till  she  does,"  Emilia 
rejoined. 

Her  agitation  laid  her  open  to  be  misinterpreted. 
It  was  increased  when  she  saw  him  take  a  book  and 
sit  in  the  arm-chair  between  two  lighted  candles, 
calmly  cai'eless  of  her.  She  did  not  accurately 
define  to  herself  that  he  should  feel  jealousy,  but 
his   indifference  was   one  extreme  which  provoked 


206  EMILLi   IX   ENGLAND. 

her  instinct  to  imagine  a  necessity  for  the  other. 
Word  came  from  Georgiana,  and  Emilia  moved  to 
the  door.  "Eememher,  we  dine  half  an  hour 
earlier  to-day,  on  account  of  the  Cameron  party," 
was  all  that  he  uttered.  Emilia  made  an  effort  to  go. 
She  felt  herself  as  a  ship  sailing  into  perilous  waters, 
without  compass.  Why  did  he  not  speak  tenderly  ? 
Before  Georgiana  had  revealed  his  love  for  her,  she 
had  heen  strong  to  see  Wilfrid.  Now,  the  idea 
smote  her  softened  heart  that  Wilfrid's  passion 
might  engulf  her  if  she  had  no  word  of  sustainment 
from  Merthyr.  She  turned  and  flung  herself  at  his 
feet,  murmuring,  "  Say  something  to  me."  Merthyr 
divined  this  emotion  to  be  a  sort  of  foresight  of 
remorse  on  her  part :  he  clasped  the  interwoven 
fingers  of  her  hands,  letting  his  eyes  dwell  upon 
hers.  The  marvel  of  their  not  wavering  or  soften- 
ing meaningly  kept  her  speechless.  She  rose 
with  a  strength  not  her  own :  not  comforted,  and 
no  longer  speculating.  It  was  as  if  she  had  been 
eyeing  a  golden  door  shut  fast,  that  might  some 
day  open,  but  was  in  itself  precious  to  behold. 
She  rose  with  deep  humbleness,  which  awakened 
new  ideas  of  the  nature  of  worth  in  her  bosom. 
She  felt  herself  so  low  before  this  man  who 
would    not    be    played    upon    as    an    obsequious 


EMILIA   BEGINS   TO   FEEL   MERTHYR'S   POWER.    207 

instrument — who  would  not  leap  into  ardour  for  her 
beauty  !  Before  that  man  up -stairs  how  would  she 
feel  ?  The  question  did  not  come  to  her.  She 
entered  the  room  where  he  was,  without  a  blush. 
Her  step  was  firm,  and  her  face  expressed  a  quiet 
gladness.  Georgiana  stayed  through  the  first  com- 
monplaces :  then  they  were  alone. 


CHAPTEK  XV. 

A    CHAPTER   INTEEEUPTED    BY    THE    PHILOSOPHEE. 

Commonplaces  continued  to  be  "Wilfrid's  refuge, 
for  sentiment  was  surging  mightily  within  him.  The 
commonplaces  concerning  father,  sisters,  liealth, 
weather,  sickened  him  when  uttered,  so  much  that 
for  a  time  he  was  unobservant  of  Emilia's  ready  ex- 
change of  them.  To  a  comjDliment  on  her  appear- 
ance, she  said :  "  You  like  this  dress  ?  I  will  tell 
you  the  history  of  it.  I  call  it  the  Branciani  dress. 
Mr.  Powys  designed  it  for  me.  The  Countess  Bran- 
ciani was  his  friend.  She  used  always  to  dress  in 
this  colour;  just  in  this  style.  She  also  was  dark. 
And  she  imagined  that  her  husband  favoured  the 
Austrians.  She  believed  he  was  an  Austrian  spy. 
It  was  impossible  for  her  not  to  hate  him " 

"  Her  husband  !  "  quoth  Wilfrid.  The  unexpected 
richness  that  had  come  upon  her  beauty  and  the 
coolness  of  her  prattle  at  such  an  interview  amazed 
and  mortified  him. 

"  She  supposed  him  to  be  an  Austrian  spy !  " 


INTERRUPTED    BY   THE    PHILOSOPHER.  209 

*'  Still,  he  was  her  husband  !  " 

Emilia  gave  her  features  a  moment's  play,  but 
she  had  not  full  command  of  them,  and  the  spark 
of  scorn  they  emitted  was  very  slight. 

*'  Ah  !  "  his  tone  had  fallen  into  a  depth,  "  how  I 
thank  you  for  the  honour  you  have  done  me  in 
desiring  to  see  me  once  before  you  leave  England ! 
I  know  that  I  have  not  merited  it." 

More  he  said  on  this  theme,  blaming  himself 
emphatically,  until  startled  by  the  commonplaces 
he  was  uttering  he  stopped  short :  and  the  stopping 
was  effective,  if  the  speech  was  not.  Where  was 
the  tongue  of  his  passion  ?  He  almost  asked  it  of 
himself.  Where  was  HippogrifF?  He  who  had 
burned  to  see  her,  he  saw  her  now,  fair  as  a  vision, 
and  yet  in  the  flesh  !  Why  was  he  as  good  as 
tongue-tied  in  her  presence  when  he  had  such 
fires  to  pour  forth  ? 

(Presuming  that  he  has  not  previously  explained 
it,  the  philosopher  here  observes  that  Hippogriff 
(the  foal  of  Fiery  Circumstance  out  of  Sentiment) 
must  be  subject  to  strong  sentimental  friction  before 
he  is  capable  of  a  flight :  his  appetites  must  fast 
long  in  the  very  eye  of  provocation  ere  he  shall  be 
eloquent.     Let  him,  the  Philosopher,  repeat  at  the 

VOL.    III.  p 


210  EMTLLV   IN   EXGLAND. 

same  time  that  souls  harmonious  to  Nature,  of 
whom  there  are  few,  do  not  mount  this  animal. 
Those  who  have  true  passion  are  not  at  the  mercy 
of  Hippogriif — otherwise  Surexcited  Sentiment.  You 
will  mark  in  them  constantly  a  reverence  for  the  laws 
of  their  being,  and  a  natural  obedience  to  common 
sense.  They  are  subject  to  storm,  as  is  eveiything 
earthly,  and  thej^  need  no  lesson  of  devotion ;  but 
they   never  move  to  an  object  in  a  madness.) 

Xow  this  is  good  teaching :  it  is  indeed  my 


philosopher's  object — his,  pur2wse — to  work  out  this 
distinction ;  and  all  I  wish  is  that  it  were  good  for 
my  market.  What  the  philosopher  means  is  to 
plant  in  the  reader's  path  a  staring  contrast  between 
my  pet  Emilia  and  his  puppet  Wilfrid.  It  would  be 
very  commendable  and  serviceable  if  a  novel  were 
what  he  thinks  it:  but  all  attestation  favoiu-s  the 
critical  dictum  that  a  novel  is  to  give  us  copious 
sugar  and  no  cane.  I,  myself,  as  a  reader,  consider 
concomitant  cane  an  adulteration  of  the  qualities  of 
sugar.  IsLj  Philosopher's  error  is  to  deem  the  sugar, 
born  of  the  cane,  inseparable  from  it.  The  which 
is  naturally  resented,  and  away  flies  my  book  back 
at  the  heads  of  the  librarians,  hitting  me  behind 
them  a  far  more  grievous  blow. 


INTERRUPTED   BY   THE   rHILOSOPHER.  211 

Such  is  the  construction  of  my  story,  however, 
that  to  entirely  deny  tlie  philosopher  the  privilege 
he  stipulated  for  when  with  his  assistance  I  con- 
ceived it,  would  render  our  performance  unintel- 
ligible to  that  acute  and  honoui'abie  minority  which 
consents  to  be  thwacked  with  aphorisms  and  sen- 
tences and  a  fantastic  dehvery  of  the  verities.  While 
my  play  goes  on,  I  must  permit  him  to  come 
forward  occasionally.  We  ai'e  indeed  in  a  sort  of 
partnership,  and  it  is  useless  for  me  to  t^ll  him 
that  he  is  not  popular  and  destroys  my  chance. 


p  2 


CHAPTER  XYI. 

A    FRESH    DUET    BETWEEN    WILFRID    AND    EMILIA. 

"  Don't  blame  yourself,  my  Wilfrid." 

Emilia  spoke  thus,  full  of  pity  for  him,  and  in 
her  adorable,  deep-fluted  tones,  after  the  effective 
stop  he  had  come  to. 

The  '  my  Wilfrid '  made  the  owner  of  the  name 
quiver  with  satisfaction.  He  breathed  :  "  You  have 
forgiven  me  ?  " 

"  That  I  have.  And  there  was  indeed  no  blame. 
My  voice  has  gone.  Yes,  but  I  do  not  think  it  your 
fault." 

"  It  was  !  it  is  !  "  groaned  Wilfrid.  "  But,  has 
your  voice  gone  ?  "  He  leaned  nearer  to  her,  draw- 
ing largely  on  the  claim  his  incredulity  had  to 
inspect  her  sweet  features  accurately.  "  You  speak 
just  as — more  deliciously  than  ever !  I  can't 
think  you  have  lost  it.  Ah !  forgive  me  !  forgive 
me  ! " 


A  FRESH  DUET  BETWEEN  WILFRID  AXD  EMILIA.  213 

Emilia  was  about  to  put  her  hand  over  to  him, 
but  the  prompt  impulse  was  checked  by  a  simul- 
taneous feminine  warning  within.  She  smiled,  say- 
ing :  "  '  I  forgive  '  seems  such  a  strange  thing  for 
me  to  say ; "  and  to  convey  any  further  meaning 
that  might  comfort  him,  better  than  words  could 
do,  she  held  on  her  smile.  The  smile  was  of 
the  acceptedly  feigned,  conventional  character ;  a 
polished  surface  ;  belonging  to  the  passage  of  the 
discourse,  and  not  to  the  emotions.  AVilfrid's  swell- 
ing passion  slipped  on  it.  Sensitively  he  discerned 
an  ease  in  its  formation  and  disappearance  that  shot 
a  first  doubt  through  him,  whether  he  really  main- 
tained his  empire  in  her  heart.  If  he  did  not  reign 
there,  why  had  she  sent  for  him  ?  He  attributed 
the  unheated  smile  to  a  defect  in  her  manner,  that 
was  alwaj'S  chargeable  with  something,  as  he  remem- 
bered. He  began  systematically  to  account  for  his 
acts  :  but  the  man  was  so  constituted  that  as  he 
laid  them  out  for  pardon,  he  himself  condemned 
them  most ;  and  looking  back  at  his  weakness  and 
double  play,  he  broke  through  his  phrases  to  cry 
without  premeditation  :  "  Can  you  have  loved  me 
then  ?  " 

Emilia's  cheeks  tingled  :  "  Don't  speak  of  that 
night  in  Devon,"  she  replied. 


214  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

"  Ah  ! "  sighed  he.  "  I  did  not  mean  then.  Then 
you  must  have  hated  me." 

"  No ;  for,  what  did  I  say  ?  I  said  that  you 
would  come  to  me — nothing  more.  I  hated  that 
woman.     You  ?     Oh,  no  !  " 

"  You  loved  me,  then  ?  " 

"Did  I  not  offer  to  work  for  you,  if  you  were 
poor  ?  And — I  can't  rememher  what  I  said.  Please, 
do  not  speak  of  that  night." 

"  Emilia  !  as  a  man  of  honour,  I  was  hound " 

She  lifted  her  hands :  "  Oh !  be  silent,  and  let 
that  night  die." 

"  I   may  speak   of  that   night  when   you   drove 

home  from  Penarvon   Castle,   and   a   robber ? 

You  have  forgotten  bim,  perhaps  !  What  did  he 
steal  ?  not  what  he  came  for,  but  something  dearer 
to  him  than  anything  he  possesses.     How  can  I 

say ?     Dear  to  me  ?     If  it  were  dipped  in  my 

heart's  blood  ! " 

Emilia  was  far  from  being  carried  away  by  the 
recollection  of  the  scene  ;  but  remembering  what 
her  emotion  had  then  been,  she  wondered  at  her 
coolness  now. 

"  I  may  speak  of  Wilming  Weir  ?  "  he  insinuated. 

Her  bosom  rose  softly  and  heavily.  As  if  throw- 
ing off  some  cloak  of  enchantment  that  clogged  her 


A  FRESH  DUET  BETWEEN  WILFRID  AND  EMILIA.  215 

spirit :  "  I  was  telling  you  of  this  dress,"  she  said : 
"  I  mean,  of  Countess  Branciani.  She  thought  her 
husband  was  the  Austrian  spy  who  had  betrayed 
them,  and  she  said,  '  he  is  not  worthy  to  hve.' 
Everybody  knew  that  she  had  loved  him.  I  have 
seen  his  portrait  and  hers.  I  never  saw  faces  that 
looked  so  fond  of  life.  She  had  that  Italian  beauty 
that  is  to  an}^  other  like  the  difference  between 
velvet  and  silk." 

"  Oh  !  do  I  require  to  be  told  the  difference  ?  " 
Wilfrid's  heart  throbbed. 

*'  She,"  pursued  Emilia,  "  she  loved  him  still,  I 
believe,  but  her  country  was  her  religion.  There 
was  known  to  be  a  great  conspiracy,  and  no  one 
knew  the  leader  of  it.  All  true  Italians  trusted 
Countess  Branciani,  though  she  visited  the  Austrian 
Governor's  house — a  General  with  some  name  on 
the  teeth.  One  night  she  said  to  him,  '  You  have  a 
Sjoy  who  betrays  you.'  The  General  never  sus- 
pected Countess  Branciani.  Women  are  devils  of 
cleverness  sometimes.  But  he  did  suspect  it  must 
be  her  husband — thinlving,  I  suppose,  '  How  other- 
wise would  she  have  known  he  was  my  spy  ?  '  He 
gave  Count  Branciani  secret  work  and  high  pay. 
Then  he  set  a  watch  on  him.  Count  Branciani  was 
to  find  out  who  was  this  unknown  leader.     He  said 


216  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

to  the  Austrian  Governor,  '  You  shall  know  him  in 
ten  days.'  This  was  repeated  to  Countess  Bran- 
ciani,  and  she  said  to  herself,  *  My  husband !  you 
shall  perish,  though  I  should  have  to  stab  you 
myself;  " 

Emilia's  sympathetic  hand  twitched.  Wilfrid 
seized  it,  but  it  proved  no  soft,  melting  prize. 
She  begged  to  be  allow^ed  to  continue.  He  en- 
treated her  to.  Thereat  she  pulled  gently  for  her 
hand,  and  persisting,  it  was  grudgingly  let  go. 

"  One  night  Countess  Branciani  put  the  Aus- 
trians  on  her  husband's  track.  He  knew  that  she 
was  true  to  her  countr}-,  and  had  no  fear  of  her, 
■whether  she  touched  the  Black-yellow  gold  or  not. 
But  he  did  not  confide  any  of  his  projects  to  her. 
And  his  reason  was  that,  as  she  went  to  the  Gover- 
nor's, she  might  accidentally,  by  a  word  or  a  sign, 
show  that  she  w^as  an  accomplice  in  the  consj)iracy. 
He  wished  to  save  her  from  a  suspicion.  Brave 
Branciani !  " 

Emilia  had  a  little  shudder  of  excitement. 

"  Only,"  she  added,  "  why  will  men  always  think 
women  are  so  weak  ?  The  Count  worked  with  con- 
spirators who  were  not  dreaming  they  would  do 
anything,  but  were  plotting  to  do  it.  The  Countess 
belonged    to    the    other    party — men    w^ho    never 


A  FRESH  DUET  BET\\T:EN  ^\^LFIlLD  ^^^T)  EMILIA.  217 

thought  they  were  strong  enough  to  see  their  ideas 
acting — I  mean,  not  bold  enough  to  take  their 
chance.  As  if  we  die  more  than  one  death,  and  the 
blood  we  spill  for  Italy  is  ever  wasted  I  That  night 
the  Austrian  spy  followed  the  Count  to  the  meeting- 
house of  the  conspu'ators.  It  was  thought  quite 
natui-al  that  the  Count  should  go  there.  But  the 
spy,  not  having  the  password,  crouched  outside,  and 
heard  from  two  that  came  out  muttering,  the  next 
appointment  for  a  meeting.  This  was  told  to  Coun- 
tess Branciani,  and  in  the  meantime  she  heard  from 
the  Austrian  Governor  that  lier  husband  had  given 
in  names  of  the  conspirators.  She  determined  at 
once.     Now  may  Christ  and  the  Virgin  help  me  ! 

Emiha  struck  her  knees,  while  tears  started 
through  her  shut  eyelids.  The  exclamation  must 
have  been  caught  from  her  father,  who  liked  not  the 
priests  of  his  native  land  well  enough  to  interfere 
between  his  English  wife  and  their  child  in  such  a 
matter  as  religious  training. 

"  ^Yhat  happened  ?  "  said  Wilfrid,  vainly  seeking 
for  a  personal  application  in  this  narrative. 

"  Listen  ! — Ah  !  "  she  fought  with  her  tears,  and 
said,  as  they  roUed  down  her  face :  "  For  a  miser- 
able thing  one  cannot  help,  I  find  I  must  cry. 
This  is  what  she  did.     She  told  him  she  knew  of 


218  EMILIA  IN   ENGLAND. 

the  conspiracy,  and  asked  permission  to  join  it, 
swearing  that  she  was  true  to  Italy.  He  said  he 
beheved  her. — Oh,  Heaven  ! — And  for  some  time 
she  had  to  beg  and  beg ;  but  to  spare  her  he  would 
not  let  her  join.  I  cannot  tell  why — he  gave  her 
the  password  for  the  next  meeting,  and  said  that  an 
old  gold  coin  must  be  shown.  She  must  have 
coaxed  it,  though  he  was  a  strong  man  who  could 
resist  women.^  I  suppose  he  felt  that  he  had  been 
unkind. — Were  I  Queen  of  Italy  he  should  stand 
for  ever  in  a  statue  of  gold ! — The  next  appointed 
night  a  spy  entered  among  the  conspirators,  with 
the  password  and  the  coin.  Did  I  tell  you  the 
Countess  had  one  child — a  girl?  She  lives  now, 
and  I  am  to  know  her.  She  is  like  her  mother. 
That  little  girl  was  playing  down  the  stairs  with  her 
nurse  when  a  regiment  of  Austrian  soldiers  entered 
the  hall  underneath,  and  an  of&cer,  with  his  sword 
drawn,  and  some  men,  came  marching  up  in  their 
stiff  wa}^ — the  machines !  This  officer  stooped  to 
her,  and  before  the  nurse  could  stop  her,  made  her 
say  where  her  father  was.  Those  Austrians  make 
children  betray  their  parents  !  They  don't  think 
how  we  grow  up  to  detest  them.  Do  I  ?  Hate  is 
not  the  word :  it  burns  so  hot  and  steady  with  me. 
The  Countess  came  out  on  the  first  landing :  she^saw 


A  FRESH  DUET  BETWEEN  WILFRID  AND  EMILIA.  219 

what  was  happening.  When  her  husband  was  led 
out,  she  asked  permission  to  embrace  him.  The 
officer  consented,  but  she  had  to  say  to  him,  '  Move 
back,'  and  then,  with  her  lips  to  her  husband's 
cheek,  '  Betray  no  more  of  them  ! '  she  whispered. 
Count  Branciani  started.  Now  he  understood  what 
she  had  done,  and  why  she  had  done  it.  '  Ask  for 
the  charge  that  makes  me  a  prisoner,'  he  said. 
Her  husband's  noble  face  gave  her  a  chill  of  alarm. 
The  Austrian  spoke.  '  He  is  accused  of  being  the 
chief  of  the  Sequin  Club.'  And  then  the  Countess 
looked  at  her  husband ;  she  sunk  at  his  feet.  My 
heart  breaks.  WiKrid !  Wilfrid!  You  will  not 
wear  that  uniform  ?  Say — '  Never,  never  ! '  You 
will  not  go  to  the  Austrian  army — Wilfrid  ?  Would 
you  be  my  enemy  ?  Brutes,  knee-deep  in  blood ! 
with  bloody  fingers  !  Ogres  !  Would  you  'be  one 
of  them  ?  To  see  me  turn  my  head  shivering  with 
loathing  as  you  pass  ?  This  is  why  I  sent  for 
3'ou,  because  I  loved  you,  to  entreat  you,  Wilfrid, 
from  my  soul,  not  to  blacken  the  dear  happy  days 
when  I  knew  you !  Will  you  hear  me  ?  That 
woman  is  changing  you — doing  all  this.  Resist 
her !  Think  of  me  in  this  one  thing  !  Promise  it, 
and  I  will  go  at  once,  and  want  no  more.  I  will 
swear  never  to  trouble  you.     Oh,  Wilfrid  !  it's  not 


220  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

SO  mucli  our  being  enemies,  but  what  you  become,  I 
think  of.  If  I  say  to  myself,  '  He  also,  who  was 
once  my  lover — Oh  !  paid  murderer  of  m}^  dear 
people  ! ' " 

Emilia  threw  up  both  hands  to  her  eyes  :  but 
Wilfrid,  all  on  fire  with  a  word,  made  one  of 
her  hands  his  own,  repeating  eagerly :  "  Once  ? 
once  ?  " 

"  Once  ?  "  she  echoed  him. 

"  '  Once  my  lover  ?  '  "  said  he.  "  Not  now  ? — 
does  it  mean,  '  not  now  ?  '  My  darling  ! — par- 
don me,  I  must  say  it.  My  beloved  !  you  said  : 
'  He    who    was    once    my  lover : ' — you   said  that. 

"What  does  it  mean  ?     Not  that — not ?  does  it 

mean,  all's  over  ?  Why  did  you  bring  me  here  ? 
You  know  I  must  love  you  for  ever.  Speak  ! 
'  Once  ?  '  " 

"  '  Once  ?  '"  Emilia  was  breathing  quick,  but  her 
voice  was  well  contained :  "  Yes,  I  said  '  once.' 
You  were  then." 

"  Till  that  night  in  Devon  ?  " 

"Let  it  be.'' 

"  But  you  love  me  still  ?  " 

*'  We  won't  speak  of  it." 

"  I  see  !  You  cannot  forgive.  Good  Heavens  ! 
I  think  I  remember  your  saying  so  once — Once  I 


A  FRESH  DUET  BETWEEN  WILFEID  AND  EMILL\.  221 

Yes,  then  :  3-011  said  it  then,  dming  our  *  Once  ; ' 
"when  I  little  thought  you  would  be  merciless  to  me 
— who  loved  3-ou  from  the  first !  the  very  first !  I 
love  you  now  !  I  wake  up  in  the  night,  thinking 
I  hear  your  voice.  You  haunt  me.  Cruel !  cold  ! — 
who  guards  you  and  watches  over  you  but  the  man 
3'ou  now  hate  ?  You  sit  there  as  if  you  could  make 
yourself  stone  when  you  pleased.  Did  I  not  chastise 
that  man  Pericles  publicly  because  he  spoke  a  single 
lie  of  you  ?  And  by  that  act  I  have  made  an  enemy 
to  our  house  who  may  crush  us  in  ruin.  Do  I 
regi'et  it?  No.  I  would  do  any  madness,  waste 
all  my  blood  for  3'ou,  die  for  you  !  " 

Emilia's  fingers  received  a  final  tvdst,  and  were 
dropped  loose.  She  let  them  hang,  looking  sadly 
downward.  IMelancholy  is  the  most  ii'ritating  reply 
to  passion,  and  "Wilfrid's  heart  waxed  fierce  at  the 
sight  of  her,  grown  beautiful ! — grown  elegant ! — 
and  to  reject  him  !  When,  after  a  silence  which  his 
pride  would  not  suffer  him  to  break,  she  spoke  to 
ask  what  Mr.  Pericles  had  said  of  her,  he  was 
enraged,  forgot  himself,  and  answered  :  "  Something 
disgraceful." 

Deep  colour  came  on  Emilia.  "  You  struck  him, 
Wilfrid  ?  " 

''  It  was  a  small  punishment  for  his  infamous  lie, 


222  EMILLi   IN   ENGLAND. 

and,  whatever  might  be  the  consequences,  I  would  do 
it  again." 

"  Wilfrid,  I  have  heard  what  he  has  said.  Madame 
Marini  has  told  me.  I  wish  you  had  not  struck 
him.  I  cannot  think  of  him  apart  from  the  days 
when  I  had  my  voice.  I  cannot  bear  to  thmk  of 
your  having  hurt  him.  He  was  not  to  blame.  That 
is,  he  did  not  say  : it  was  not  mitrue." 

She  took  a  breath  to  make  this  last  statement, 
and  continued  with  the  same  pecuhar  simplicity  of 
distinctness,  which  a  terrific  thunder  of  "  What  ?  " 
from  Wilfiid  did  not  overbear  :  "  I  was  quite  mad 
that  day  I  went  to  him.  I  think,  in  my  despair  I 
spoke  things  that  may  have  led  him  to  fancy  the 
truth  of  what  he  has  said.  On  my  honour,  I  do  not 
know.  And  I  cannot  remember  what  happened 
afterwards  for  the  week  I  wandered  alone  about 
London.  Mr.  Powys  found  me  on  a  wharf  by  the 
river  at  night." 

A  groan  burst  from  Wilfrid.  Emilia's  instinct 
had  divined  the  antidote  that  this  w^ould  be  to  the 
poison  of  revived  love  in  him,  and  she  felt  secure, 
though  he  had  again  taken  her  hand ;  but  it  w^as 
she  who  nm'sed  a  mere  sentiment  now%  while  passion 
sprang  in  him,  and  she  was  not  prepared  for  the 
delirium  with  which  he  enveloped  her.     She  hstened 


A  FKESH  DUET  BETWEEN  WILFEID  AXD  EMILIA.  223 

to  his  ra\ing  senselessly,  beginning  to  think  herself 
lost.  Her  tortured  hands  were  kissed ;  her  eyes 
gazed  into.  He  interpreted  her  stupefaction  as 
contrition,  her  silence  as  delicacy,  her  changing  of 
colour  as  flying  hues  of  shame  :  the  partial  coldness 
at  their  meeting  he'  attributed  to  the  burden  on  her 
mind,  and  muttering  in  a  magnanimous  sublimity 
that  he  forgave  her,  he  claimed  her  mouth  with 
force. 

"  Don't  touch  me  !  "  cried  Emilia,  showing  terror. 

"  Are  you  not  mine  ?  " 

"  You  must  not  kiss  me." 

Wilfrid  loosened  her  waist,  and  became  in  a 
minute  outwardly  most  cool  and  courteous. 

"  My  successor  may  object.  I  am  bound  to  con- 
sider him.     Pardon  me.     Once  ! " 

The  wretched  insult  and  silly  emphasis  passed 
harmlessly  from  her :  but  a  word  had  led  her 
thoughts  to  Merthyr's  face,  and  what  is  meant  by 
the  phrase  '  keeping  oneself  pure,'  stood  clearly  in 
Emiha's  mind.  She  had  not  winced ;  and  therefore 
Wilfrid  judged  that  his  shot  had  missed  because 
there  was  no  mark.  With  his  eye  upon  her  side- 
ways, showing  its  circle  wide  as  a  parrot's,  he  asked 
her  one  of  those  questions  that  lovers  sometimes 
permit  between  themselves.     "  Has  another ?  " 


224  EMILLi   IN   ENGLAND. 

It  is  here  as  it  was  uttered.  Eye-speecli  finished 
the  sentence. 

Eapidlj  a  train  of  thought  was  started  in  Emilia, 
and  she  came  to  this  conclusion,  aloud  :  "  Then  I 
love  nobod}^ !  "  For  she  had  never  kissed  Merthyr, 
or  wished  for  his  kiss. 

"You  do  not?"  said  Wilfrid,  after  a  silence. 
"You  are  generous  in  being  candid." 

A  pressure  of  intensest  sorrow  bowed  his  head. 
The  real  feeling  in  him  stole  to  Emilia  like  a  subtle 
flame. 

"  Oh  !  what  can  I  do  for  3'ou  ?  "  she  cried. 

"Nothing,  if  you  do  not  love  me,"  he  was  reply-, 
ing  mournfully,  when,  "  Yes  !  yes  !  "  rushed  to  his 
lips ;  "  marry  me  :  marry  me  to-morrow.  You  have 
loved  me.  *I  am  never  to  leave  you!'  Can  you 
forget  the  night  when  you  said  it  ?  Emilia  !  Marry 
me,  and  you  will  love  me  again.     You  must.     This 

man,  whoever  he  is Ah  !  why  am  I   such  a 

brute  !  Come  !  be  mine  !  Let  me  call  you  my  own 
darling!  Emilia! — or  say  quietly — '  you  have  nothing 
to  hope  for  :'  I  shall  not  reproach  you,  believe  me." 

He  looked  resigned.  The  abrupt  transition  had 
drawn  her  eyes  to  his.  She  faltered  :  "  I  cannot  be 
married."  And  then  :  "  How  could  I  guess  that  you 
felt  in  this  way  ?  " 


A  FRESH  DUET  BETWEEN  WILFRID  AND  EMILLV.  225 

"  Who  told  me  that  I  should  ?  "  said  he.  ''  Your 
words  have  come  true.  You  i^redicted  that  I  should 
fly  from  '  that  woman,'  as  you  called  her,  and  come 
to  you.  See !  here  it  is  exactly  as  you  willed 
it.  You — you  are  changed.  You  throw  your 
magic  on  me,  and  then  you  are  satisfied,  and  turn 
elsewhere." 

Emilia's  conscience  smote  her  with  a  verification 
of  this  chai'ge,  and  she  trembled,  half-intoxicated 
for  the  moment,  by  the  aspect  of  her  power.  This 
filled  her  likewise  with  a  dangerous  pity  for  its 
victim ;  and  now,  putting  out  both  hands  to  him,  her 
chin  and  shoulders  raised  entreatingly,  she  begged 
the  victim  to  spare  her  any  word  of  mai'riage. 

"But  you  go,  you  run  away  from  me — I  don't 
know  where  you  are  or  what  you  are  doing,"  said 
"Wilfiid.  "  And  you  leave  me  to  that  woman.  She 
loves  the  Austrians,  as  you  know.  There  !  I  will 
ask  nothing — only  this  :  I  will  promise,  if  I  quit  the 
Queen's  service  for  good,  not  to  wear  the  white 
unifonn " 

"  Oh  ! "  Emilia  breathed  inward  deeply,  scarce 
noticing  the  '  if '  that  followed ;  nodding  quick 
assent  to  the  stipulation  before  she  heard  the 
nature  of  it.  It  -^"as,  that  she  should  continue  in 
England. 

VOL.    III.  Q 


226  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

**Your  word,"  said  Wilfrid;  and  she  pledged  it, 
and  did  not  think  she  was  granting  much  in  the 
prospect  of  what  she  gained. 

"  You  will,  then  ?  "  said  he. 

"Yes,  I  will." 

"  On  your  honour?" 

These  reiterated  questions  were  simply  pretexts 
for  steps  nearer  to  the  answering  lips. 

"  And  I  may  see  you  ?  "  he  went  on. 

"  Yes." 

"Wherever  you  are  staying?  And  sometimes 
alone  ?     Alone  ! " 

"Not  if  you  do  not  know  that  I  am  to  he  re- 
spected," said  Emilia,  huddled  in  the  passionate 
fold  of  his  arms.  He  released  her  instantly,  and 
was  departing,  wounded;  but  his  heart  comiselled 
wiser  proceedings. 

"  To  know  that  you  are  in  England,  breathing  the 
same  air  with  me,  near  me  !  is  enough.  Since  we 
are  to  meet  on  those  terms,  let  it  be  so.  Let  me 
only  see  3'ou  till  some  lucky  shot  puts  me  out  of 
your  way." 

This  *some  lucky  shot,'  which  is  commonly 
pointed  at  themselves  by  the  sentimental  lovers, 
with  the  object  of  hitting  the  very  centre  of  the 
hearts   of  obdurate  damsels,  glanced  off  Emilia's, 


A  FEESH  DUET  BETWEEN  WILFRID  AND  EMILLV.  227 

which  was  beginning  to  throb  with  a  comprehension 
of  all  that  was  involved  in  the  word  she  had 
given. 

"I  have  5'our  promise  ?"  he  repeated:  and  she 
bent  her  head. 

*'  Not,"  he  resumed,  taking  jealousy  to  counsel, 
now  that  he  had  advanced  a  step  :  "  Not  that  I 
would  detain  you  against  your  will !  I  can't  expect 
to  make  such  a  figure  at  the  end  of  the  piece  as 
your  Count  Branciani — who,  by  the  way,  sensed  his 
friends  oddly,  however  well  he  may  have  served  his 
country." 

"  His  fiiends  ?  "     She  fro^vned. 

*'  Did  he  not  betray  the  conspirators  ?  He  handed 
in  names,  now  and  then." 

"  Oh  !  "  she  cried,  "  you  understand  us  no  better 
than  an  Austrian.  He  handed  in  names — yes !  he 
was  obliged  to  lull  suspicion.  Two  or  three  of  the 
least  implicated  volunteered  to  be  betrayed  by  him ; 
they  went  and  confessed,  and  put  the  Government 
on  a  wrong  track.  Count  Branciani  made  a  dish  of 
traitors — not  true  men,  to  satisfy  the  Austiian  ogre. 
No  one  knew  the  head  of  the  plot  till  that  night 
of  the  spy.  Do  you  not  see? — he  2ceeded  the 
conspiracy !  " 

"Poor  fellow!"  Wilfrid  answered,  with   a  con- 

Q  2 


228  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

tracted  mouth  :  "  I  pity  him  for  heing  cut  off  from 
his  handsome  wife." 

"  I  -pity  her  for  having  to  live,"  said  Emilia. 

And  so  their  duet  dropped  to  a  finish.  He 
liked  her  phrase  hetter  than  his  own,  and  being 
denied  any  privileges,  and  feeling  stupefied  by 
a  position  which  both  enticed  and  stung  him, 
he  remarked  that  he  presumed  he  must  not  detain 
her  any  longer ;  whereupon  she  gave  him  her 
hand.  He  clutched  the  ready  hand  reproach- 
fully. 

"  Good-by,"  said  she. 

"  You  are  the  first  to  say  it,"  he  complained. 

"  Will  you  write  to  that  Austrian  Colonel,  your 
cousin,  to  say  '  Never  !  never  ! '  to-morrow,  "Wil- 
frid?" 

**  While  you  are  in  England,  I  shall  stay,  be  sure 
of  that." 

She  bade  him  give  her  love  to  all  Brookfield. 

*'  Once  you  had  none  to  give  but  what  I  let  you 
take  back  for  the  purpose  !  "  he  said.  "  Farewell ! 
I  shall  see  the  harp  to-night.  It  stands  in  the  old 
place.  I  will  not  have  it  moved  or  touched  till 
you " 

"  Ah  !  how  kind  you  were,  Wilfrid  !" 

"  And  how  lovely  you  are  !  " 


A  FRESH  DUET  BETWEEN  WILFRID  AND  EMILLV.  229 

There  was  no  struggle  to  preserve  the  hacks 
of  her  fingers  from  his  lips,  and,  as  this  time 
his  phrase  was  not  palpably  obscured  by  the 
one  it  countered,  artistic  sentiment  permitted 
him  to  go. 


CHAPTER  XYII. 

alderman's  bouquet. 

A  MINUTE  after  his  parting  with  Emiha,  Wilfrid 
swung  round  in  the  street  and  walked  back  at  great 
strides.  "  What  a  fool  I  was  not  to  see  that  she 
was  actm[/  indifference  !  "  he  cried.  "  Let  me  have 
two  seconds  with  her ! "  But  how  that  was  to  be 
contrived  his  diplomatic  brain  refused  to  say. 
*'And  what  a  stiff,  formal  fellow  I  was  all  the  time  !'^ 
He  considered  that  he  had  not  uttered  a  sentence 
in  any  way  pointed  to  touch  her  heart.  "  She 
must  think  I  am  still  determined  to  marry  that 
woman." 

Wilfrid  had  taken  his  stand  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  street,  and  beheld  a  male  figure  in  the  dusk, 
that  went  up  to  the  house  and  then  stood  back 
scanning  the  windows.  Womided  by  this  audacious 
irreverence  towards  the  walls  behind  which  his 
beloved  was  sheltered,  Wilfrid  crossed  and  stared 
at  the  intruder.     It  proved  to  be  Braintop. 

"  How  do  you  do,    sir ! — no  !    that  can't  be  the 


alderman's  bouquet.  231 

house,"  stammered  Braintop,  with  a  very  earnest 
scrutiny. 

"  AVhat  house  ?  what  do  you  want  ?  "  inquired 
Wilfrid. 

"  Jenkinson,"  was  the  name  that  won  the  honour 
of  rescuing  Braintop  from  this  dilemma. 

"  No  ;  it  is  Lady  Gosstre's  house  :  Miss  Belloni 
is  living  there ;  and  stop :  you  know  her.  Just 
wait,  and  take  in  two  or  three  words  from  me,  and 
notice  particularly  how  she  is  looking,  and  the 
dress  she  wears.  You  can  say — say  that  Mrs. 
Chump  sent  you  to  inquire  after  Miss  Belloni' s 
health." 

Wilfrid  tore  a  leaf  from  his  pocket-hook,  and 
wrote  : 

'J  can  he  free  to-morroiv.  One  word  I  I  shall 
expect  it,  with  your  name  in  fulV^ 

But  even  in  the  red  heat  of  passion  his  born 
diplomacy  withheld  his  own  signature.  It  was  not 
difficult  to  override  Braintop's  scruples  about  pre- 
sentiug  himself,  and  Wilfrid  paced  a  sentinel 
measure  awaiting  the  reply.  ''Free  to-morrow," 
he  repeated,  with  a  glance  at  his  watch  under  a 
lamp  :  and  thus  he  soliloquized :  "  What  a  time 
that  fellow  is  !  Yes,  I  can  be  free  to-morrow  if 
I  will.     I  wonder  what  the  deuce  Gambier  had  to 


232  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

do  down  in  Monmouthshire.  If  he  has  been  playing 
with  my  sister's  reputation,  he  shall  have  short 
shrift.  That  fellow,  Braintop,  sees  her  now — my 
little  Emilia  !  my  bird  !  She  wonH  have  changed 
the  dress  till  she  has  dined.  If  she  changes  it 
before  she  goes  out— by  Jove,  if  she  wears  it  to- 
night before  all  those  people,  that'll  mean  '  Good- 
by '  to  me  : — '  Addio  caro'  as  those  olive  w^omen 
say,  with  their  damned  cold  languor,  when  they  have 
given  you  up.  She's  not  one  of  them  !  Good  God ! 
she  came  into  the  room  looking  like  a  little  Em- 
press. I'll  swear  her  hand  trembled  when  I  went, 
though !  My  sisters  shall  see  her  in  that  dress. 
She  must  have  a  clever  lady's  maid  to  have  done 
that  knot  to  her  back  hair.  She's  getting  as  full 
of  art  as  any  of  them — Oh !  lovely  little  darling ! 
And  when  she  smiles  and  holds  out  her  hand  ! 
"What  is  it — what  is  it  about  her?  Her  upper 
lip  isn't  perfectly  cut,  there's  some  fault  with  her 
nose,  but  I  never  saw  such  a  mouth,  or  such  a  face. 
*  Free  to-morrow  ? '  Good  God  !  she'll  think  I 
mean  I'm  free  to  take  a  walk  !  " 

At  this  view  of  the  ghastly  shortcoming  of  his 
letter  as  regards  distinctness,  and  the  prosaic 
misinterpretation  it  was  open  to,  "Wilfrid  called 
his  inventive  wits  to   aid,   and  ran  swiftly  to  the 


alderman's  bouquet.  233 

end  of  the  street.  He  had  become  as  like  unto 
a  lunatic  as  resemblance  can  approach  identity. 
Commanding  the  length  of  the  pavement  for  an 
instant,  to  be  sure  that  no  Braintop  T\'as  in  sight, 
he  ran  down  a  lateral  street,  but  the  station- 
er's shop  he  was  in  search  of  beamed  nowhere 
visible  for  him,  and  he  returned  at  the  same  pace 
to  experience  despair  at  the  thought  that  he  might 
have  missed  Braintop  issuing  forth,  for  whom  he 
scoured  the  immediate  neighbourhood,  and  over- 
hauled not  a  few  quiet  gentlemen  of  all  ages. 
"An  envelope!"  That  was  the  object  of  his 
desire,  and  for  that  he  wooed  a  damsel  passing 
jauntily  with  a  jug  in  her  hand,  first  telling  her 
that  he  knew  her  name  was  Mary,  at  which  singular 
piece  of  divination  she  betrayed  much  natural 
astonishment.  But  a  fine  round  silver  coin  and 
an  urgent  request  for  an  envelope,  told  her  as 
plainly  as  a  blank  confession  that  this  was  a  lover. 
She  informed  him  that  she  lived  three  streets  off, 
where  there  were  shops.  "Well,  then,"  said  "Wil- 
frid, "  bring  me  the  envelope  here,  and  you'll  have 
another  opportunity  of  looking  down  the  area." 

"  Think  of  yourself,"  replied  she,  saucily ;  but 
proved  a  diligent  messenger.  Then  Wilfrid  wrote 
on  a  fresh  slip : 


234  EMILIA   IN   EXGLAM). 

*  When  I  said  '  Free/  I  meant  free  in  heart  and 
without  a  single  chain  to  keep  me  from  you.  From 
any  moment  that  you  i^lease,  I  am  free.  This  is 
written  in  the  dark.' 

He  closed  tlie  envelope,  and  wrote  Emilia's  name 
and  the  address  as  black  as  his  pencil  could  achieve 
it,  and  with  a  smart  double-knock  he  deposited 
the  missive  in  the  box.  From  his  station  opposite 
he  guessed  the  instant  when  it  was  taken  out,  and 
from  that  judged  when  she  would  be  reading  it. 
Or  perhaps  she  would  not  read  it  till  she  was  alone  ? 
*'  That  must  be  her  bed-room,"  he  said,  looking 
for  a  light  in  one  of  the  upper-windows  ;  but  the 
voice  of  a  fellow  who  went  by  with :  "I  should 
keep  that  to  mj^self,  if  I  was  you,^^  warned  him  to 
be  more  discreet. 

"Well,  here  I  am.  I  can't  leave  the  street," 
quoth  Wilfrid,  to  the  stock  of  philosophy  at  his 
disposal.  He  burned  with  rage  to  tliink  of  how  he 
might  be  exhibiting  himself  before  Powys  and  his 
sister. 

It  was  half-past  nine  when  a  carriage  drove  np 
to  the  door.  Into  this  Mr.  Powys  presently  handed 
Georgiana  and  Emiha.  Braintop  followed  the 
ladies,  and  then  the  coachman  received  his  instruc- 
tions and  drove  away.     Forthwith  Wilfrid  started 


ALDEEJL^-'S   BOUQUET.  235 

in  pursuit.  He  calculated  that  if  his  ^Yind  held 
till  he  could  jump  into  a  light  cab,  his  legitimate 
prey,  Braintop,  might  be  caught.  For,  "  they  can't 
be  taking  him  to  any  party  with  them  !  "  he  chose 
to  think,  and  it  was  a  fair  calculation  that  they 
were  simply  conducting  Braintop  part  of  his  way 
home.  The  run  was  pretty  swift.  "Wilfrid's  blood 
was  fired  by  the  pace,  until,  forgetting  the  traitor, 
Braintop,  up  rose  Truth  from  the  bottom  of  the 
well  in  him,  and  he  felt  that  his  sole  desire  was  to 
see  Emilia  once  more — but  once !  that  night. 
Eunning  hard,  in  the  midst  of  obstacles,  and  with 
eye  and  mind  fixed  on  one  object,  disasters  befell 
him.  He  knocked  apples  off  a  stall,  and  heard 
vehement  hallooing  behind  :  he  came  into  collision 
with  a  gentleman  of  middle  age  coiu'ting  digestion 
as  he  walked  from  his  trusty  dinner  at  home  to  his 
rubber  at  the  club  :  finally  he  rushed  full  tilt 
against  a  pot-boy  who  was  bringing  all  his  pots 
broadside  to  the  flow  of  the  street.  ''  By  Jove  ! 
is  this  what  they  drink  ?  "  he  gasped,  and  dabbed 
with  his  handkercliief  at  the  beer-splashes,  breath- 
lessly hailing  the  looked-for  cab,  and,  with  hot  brow 
and  straightened-out  forefinger,  telling  the  driver  to 
keep  that  carriage  in  sight.  The  pot-boy  had  to 
be  satisfied  on  his  master's  account,  and  then  on 


236  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

his  own,  and  away  shot  Wilfrid,  wet  with  beer  from 
throat  to  knee — to  his  chief  protesting  sense,  nothing 
but  an  exhalation  of  beer !  "  Is  this  what  they 
drink  ?  "  he  groaned,  thinking  lamentably  of  the 
tastes  of  the  populace.  All  idea  of  going  near 
Emilia  was  now  abandoned.  An  outward  applic- 
ation of  beer  quenched  his  frenz3\  She  seemed 
as  an  unattainable  star  seen  from  the  depths  of  foul 
pits.     "  Stop,"  he  cried  from  the  window. 

"  Here  we  are,  sir,"  said  the  cabman. 

The  carriage  had  drawn  up,  and  a  footman's 
alarum  awakened  one  of  the  houses.  The  wretched 
cabman  liad  likewise  drawn  up  right  under  the 
windows  of  the  carriage.  Wilfrid  could  have  pulled 
the  trigger  of  a  pistol  at  his  forehead  that  moment. 
He  saw  that  ]\Iiss  Ford  had  recognised  him,  and  he 
at  once  bowed  elegantly.  She  dropped  the  window, 
and  said,  "  You  are  in  evening  dress,  I  think ;  we 
will  take  you  in  with  us." 

Wilfrid  hoped  eagerly  that  he  might  be  allowed 
to  hand  them  to  the  door,  and  made  three  skips 
across  the  mire.  Emilia  had  her  hands  gathered 
away  from  the  chances  of  seizure.  In  wild  rage  he 
began  protesting  that  he  could  not  possibly  enter, 
when  Georgiana  said,  "I  wish  to  speak  to  you," 
and   put    feminine   pressure    upon   him.      He  w^as 


alderman's  bouquet.  237 

almost  on  tlie  verge  of  the  word  '  beer,'  by  way 
of  despairing  explanation,  when  the  door  closed 
behind  him. 

**  Permit  me  to  say  a  word  to  your  recent  com- 
panion. He  is  my  father's  clerk.  I  had  to  see  him 
on  urgent  business  ;  that  is  why  I  took  this  liberty," 
he  said,  and  retreated. 

Braintop  was  still  there,  quietly  posted,  perform- 
ing upon  his  head  with  a  pocket  hair-brush. 

Wilfrid  put  Braintop's  back  to  the  light,  and  said, 
"  Is  my  shirt  soiled  ?  " 

After  a  short  inspection,  Braintop  pronounced 
that  it  was,  "just  a  little." 

"  Do  you  smell  anything  ?  "  said  AYilfrid,  and 
hung  with  frightful  suspense  on  the  verdict.  '^  A 
fellow  upset  beer  on  me." 

"It  is  beer  !  "  sniffed  Braintop. 
"  What  on  earth  shaU  I  do  ?  "  was  the  rejoinder ; 
and  Wilfrid  tried  to  remember  whether  he  had  felt 
any  sacred  joy  in  touching  Emilia's  dress  as  they 
w^ent  up  the  steps  to  the  door. 

Braintop  fumbled  in  the  breast-pocket  of  liis 
coat.  "  I  happen  to  have,"  he  said,  rather  shame- 
facedly— 

**  What  is  it?" 

"Mrs.  Chump,  sir,  gave  it  to  me  to-day.   She  always 


238  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

makes  me  accept  something :  I  can't  refuse.  It's 
this : — the  remains  of  some  scent  she  insisted  on  my 
taking,  in  a  bottle." 

Wilfrid  plucked  at  the  stopper  with  a  reckless 
desperation,  saturated  his  handkerchief,  and  worked 
at  his  breast  as  if  he  were  driving  a  lusty  dagger 
into  it. 

*'  What  scent  is  it  ?  "  he  asked,  hurriedly. 

"  Alderman's  Bouquet,  sir." 

"  Of  all  the  detestable  !— "  Wilfrid  had  no  time 
for  more,  owing  to  fresh  arrivals.  He  hastened  in, 
with  his  smiling,  wary  face,  half  trusting  that  there 
might  after  all  be  purification  in  Alderman's  Bou- 
quet, and  promising  heaven  due  gratitude  if  Emilia's 
senses  discerned  not  the  curse  on  him.  In  the  hall 
a  gust  from  the  great  opening  contention  between 
Alderman's  Bouquet  and  bad  beer,  stifled  his  sickly 
hope.  Frantic,  but  under  perfect  self-command 
outwardly,  he  glanced  to  right  and  left,  for  the 
suggestion  of  a  means  of  escape.  They  were  seven 
steps  up  the  stairs  before  his  wits  prompted  him  to 
say  to  Georgiana,  "  I  have  just  heard  very  serious 
news  from  home.     I  fear " 

**  AVhat  ? — or,  pardon  me  :  does  it  call  you 
away  ?  "  she  asked,  and  Emilia  gave  him  a  steady 
look. 


aldeeua.n's  bouquet.  239 

"  I  fear  I  cannot  remain  liere.  Will  you  excuse 
me?" 

His  face  spoke  plainly  now  of  mental  torture 
repressed.  Georgiana  put  lier  hand  out  in  full 
sympathy,  and  Emilia  said,  in  her  deep  whisper, 
*'  Let  me  hear  to-morrow."  Then  they  bowed. 
Wilfrid  was  in  the  street  again. 

"  Thank  God,  I've  seen  her ! "  was  his  first 
thought,  overbearing  "  What  did  she  think  of 
me  ?  "  as  he  sighed  with  relief  at  his  escape.  For, 
lo !  the  Branciani  dress  was  not  on  her  shoulders, 
and  therefore  he  might  imagine  what  he  pleased  : — 
that  she  had  arrayed  herself  so  during  the  day  to 
delight  his  eyes :  or  that,  he  having  seen  her  in  it, 
she  had  determined  none  others  should.  Though 
feeling  utterly  humiliated,  he  was  yet  happy,  Driv- 
ing to  the  station,  he  perceived  starlight  overhead, 
and  blessed  it;  while  his  hand  waved  busily  to 
conduct  a  current  of  fresh,  oblivious  air  to  his 
nostrils.  The  quiet  heavens  seemed  all  crowding 
to  look  down  on  the  quiet  circle  of  the  fii's,  where 
Emilia's  harp  had  first  been  heard  by  him,  and 
they  took  her  music,  charming  his  blood  v\ith 
imagined  harmonies,  as  he  looked  up  to  them. 
Thus  all  the  way  to  Brookfield  his  fancy  soared, 
plucked  at  from  below  by  Alderman's  Bouquet. 


240  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

The  Philosopher,  up  to  this  pomt  rigidly  ex- 
cluded, rushes  forward  to  the  footlights  to  explain 
in  a  note,  that  Wilfrid,  thus  setting  a  perfume  to 
contend  with  a  stench,  instead  of  waiting  for  time, 
change  of  raiment,  and  the  broad,  lusty  airs  of  heaven 
to  blow  him  fresh  again,  symbolises  the  vice  of  Sen- 
timentalism,  and  what  it  is  always  doing.     Enough ! 


CHAPTER  XYIII. 

THE    EXPLOSION   AT    BROOKFIELD. 

"  Let  me  hear  to-morrow."  AVilfricl  repeated 
Emilia's  petition  in  the  tone  she  had  used,  and  sent 
a  delight  through  his  veins  even  with  that  clumsy 
effort  at  imitation.  He  walked  from  the  railway  to 
Brookfield  through  the  cii'cle  of  firs,  thinking  of 
some  serious  tale  of  home  to  invent  for  her  ears 
to-morrow.  "VMiatever  it  was,  he  was  to  conclude 
it — "  But  all's  right  now."  He  noticed  that  the 
dwarf  pine,  under  whose  spreading  head  his  darling 
sat  when  he  saw  her  first,  had  heen  cut  down.  Its 
^hsence  gave  him  an  ominous  chill. 

The  first  sight  that  saluted  him  as  the  door 
opened,  was  a  pile  of  Mrs.  Chump's  boxes  :  he 
listened,  and  her  voice  resounded  from  the  library. 
Gainsford's  eye  expressed  a  discretion  significant 
that  there  had  been  an  explosion  in  the  house. 

"  I  shan't  have  to  invent  much,"  said  Wilfiid  to 
himself  bitterly. 

There  was  a  momentary  appearance  of  Adela  at 

VOL.  HI.  R 


242  •      EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND. 

the  library- do  or ;  and  over  lier  shoulder  came  an 
outcry  from  Mrs.  Chump.  Arabella  then  spoke  : 
Mr.  Pole  and  Cornelia  following  with  a  word,  to 
which  Mrs.  Chump  responded  shrilly  :  "  Ye  shan't 
talk  to  'm,  none  of  ye,  till  I've  had  the  bloom  of  his 
ear,  now ! "  A  confused  hubbub  of  English  and 
Irish  ensued.  The  ladies  drew  their  brother  into 
the  library. 

Doubtless  you  have  seen  a  favourite  sketch  of  the 
imaginative  youthful  artist,  who  delights  to  pourtray 
scenes  on  a  raft  amid  the  tossing  w^aters,  where 
sweet  and  satiny  ladies,  in  a  pardonable  abandon- 
ment to  the  exigencies  of  the  occasion,  are  ex- 
hibiting the  full  energy  and  activity  of  crea- 
tures that  existed  before  sentiment  was  born. 
The  ladies  of  Brookfield  had  almost  as  utterty  cast 
off  their  garb  of  lofty  reserve  and  inscrutable  supe- 
riority. They  were  begging  Mrs.  Chump  to  be,  fo]^ 
Pity's  sake,  silent.  They  were  arguing  with  the 
woman.  They  were  remonstrating — to  such  an 
extent  as  this,  in  reply  to  an  infamous  outburst : 
"  No,  no  :  indeed,  Mrs.  Chump,  indeed  !  "  They 
rose,  as  she  rose,  and  stood  about  her,  motioning  a 
beseeching  emphasis  with  their  hands.  Not  visible 
for  one  second  was  the  intense  indignation  at  their 
fate  which  Wilfrid,  spying  keenly  into  them,  per- 


THE   EXPLOSION   AT   BROOKFIELD.  243 

ceived.  This  taught  him  that  the  occasion  ^Yas  as 
grave  as  could  be.  In  spite  of  the  oilj^  words  his 
father  threw  from  time  to  time  abruptly  on  the 
tumult,  he  guessed  what  had  happened. 

Briefl}',  Mrs.  Chump,  aided  b}^  Braintop,  her 
squu-e,  had  at  last  hunted  Mr.  Pericles  down,  and 
the  wrathful  Greek  had  called  her  a  beggar.  "With 
devilish  malice  he  had  reproached  her  for  specu- 
lating in  such  and  such  Bonds,  and  sending  ventures 
to  this  and  that  hemisphere,  laughing  infernally  as 
he  watched  her  growing  amazement.  "  Ye're  jokin', 
Mr.  Paricles,"  she  tried  to  say  and  think;  but  the 
very  naming  of  poverty  had  given  her  shivers. 
She  told  him  how  she  had  come  to  him  because  of 
Mr.  Pole's  reproach,  which  accused  her  of  causing 
the  ruptm-e.  Mr.  Pericles  twisted  the  waxy  points 
of  his  moustache.  ''  I  shall  advise  you,  go  home," 
he  said ;  "  go  to  a  lawyer  :  say,  '  I  will  see  my 
affairs,  how  zey  stand.'  Ze  man  will  find  Pole  is 
ruined.  It  may  be — I  do  not  know — Pole  has  left 
a  little  of  your  money ;  yes,  ma'am ;  it  may  be." 

The  end  of  the  interview  saw  Mrs.  Chump  flpng 
past  Mr.  Pericles  to  where  Braintop  stood  awaiting 
her  with  a  meditative  speculation  on  that  official 
promotion  which  in  his  attention  to  the  lady  he 
anticipated.     It  need  scarcely  be  remarked  that  he 

R   2 


244  EMILIA   IN    ENGLAND. 

was  astonished  to  receive  a  scent-bottle  on  tlie  spot, 

as  the  only  reward  his  meritorious  service  was  pro- 

babl}^  destined  ever  to  meet  with.     Breathless  in  her 

panic,  Mrs.  Chump  assured  him  she  was  a  howling 

beggar,  and  the  smell  of  a  scent  was  "  like  a  crool 

blow  to  her ; "   above  all,  tlie  smell  of  Alderman's 

Bouquet,  which  Chump—"  tell'n  a  lie,  ye  know,  Mr. 

Braintop,  said  was  named  after  Jiim.     And  I,  smell'n 

at  't  over  'n   Ireland — a   raw   garl   I   was — I  just 

thought  'm  a  prince,  the  little  sly  fella  !     And  oh ! 

I'm  a  beggar,  I  am  I"     "With  which,  she  shouted  in 

the  street,  and  put  Braintop  to  such  confusion  that 

he  hailed  a  cab  recklessly,  declaring  to  her  she  had 

no  time  to  lose,  if  she  wished  to  catch  the  train. 

Mrs.  Chump  requested  the  cabman  that  as  a  man 

possessed  of  a  feeling  heart  for  the  interests  of  a 

helpless  woman,  he  would  drive  fast;  and,  at  the 

station,  disputed  his  charge  on  the  ground  of  the 

knowledge  already  imparted  to  him  of  her  precarious 

financial  state.     In  this  frame  of  mind  she  fell  upon 

Brookfield,   and  there  was  clamour  in  the  house. 

Wilfrid  arrived  two  hours  after  Mrs.  Chump.     For 

that  space  the  ladies  had  been  saying  over  and  over 

again  empty  words  to  pacify  her.     The  task  now 

devolved  on  their  brother.    Mr.  Pole,  though  he  had 

betrayed  nothing  under  the  excitement  of  the  sudden 


THE   EXPLOSION   AT   BROOKFIELD.  24.'3 

shock,  had  lost  the  proper  easy  control  of  his  mask. 
Wilfrid  commenced  hy  fixedly  listening  to  Mrs. 
Chump  until  for  the  third  time  her  hreath  had 
gone.  Then,  taking  on  a  smile,  he  said  :  "  Perhaps 
you're  awai-e  that  Mr.  Pericles  has  a  particular  reason 
for  animosity  towards  me.  We've  disagreed  to- 
gether, that's  all.  I  suppose  it's  the  habit  of  those 
fellows  to  attack  a  whole  family  where  one  member 
of  it  offends  them."  As  soon  as  the  meaning  of 
this  was  made  clear  to  Mrs.  Chump,  she  caught  it 
to  her  bosom  for  comfort ;  and  finding  it  gave  less 
than  at  the  moment  she  required,  she  flung  it  away 
altogether ;  and  then  moaned,  a  suppliant,  for  it  once 
more.  "  The  only  thing,  if  you  are  in  a  state  of 
alarm  about  my  father's  affairs,  is  for  him  to  show 
you  by  his  books  that  his  house  is  firm,"  said 
Wilfrid,  now  that  he  had  so  far  helped  to  eject 
suspicion  from  her  mind. 

"Will  Pole  do  ut?"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Chump, 
half  off  her  seat. 

"  Of  course  I  will — of  course  !  of  course.  Haven't 
I  told  you  so  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pole,  blinking  mightily 
from  his  arm-chair  over  the  fire.  "  Sit  down, 
Martha." 

"  Oh  !  but  how'll  I  understand  ye,  Pole  ?  "  she 
cried. 


246  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

"  111  do  my  best  to' assist  in  explaining,"  Wilfrid 
condescended  to  sa3\ 

The  ladies  were  touched  when  Mrs.  Chump  re- 
plied, with  something  of  a  curtse}^  "  I'll  thank  ye 
vary  much,  sir."  She  added  immediately,  "  Mr. 
Wilfrud,"  as  if  correcting  the  '  sir,'  for  sounding 
cold. 

It  was  so  trustful  and  simple,  that  it  threw  a  light 
on  the  woman  under  which  they  had  not  yet  be- 
held her.  Compassion  began  to  stir  in  their 
bosoms,  and  with  it  an  inexplicable  sense  of  shame 
which  soon  threw  any  power  of  compassion  into  the 
background.  They  dared  not  ask  themselves 
whether  it  was  true  that  their  father  had  risked  the 
poor  thing's  money  in  some  desperate  stake.  "What 
hopeful  force  was  left  to  them  they  devoted  to  her 
property,  and  Adela  determined  to  pray  that  night 
for  its  safe  preservation.  The  secret  feeling  in  the 
hearts  of  the  ladies  was,  that,  in  putting  them  on 
their  trial  with  poverty,  Celestial  Powers  would  never 
at  the  same  time  think  it  necessary  to  add  disgrace. 
Consequently,  and  as  a  defence  against  the  darker 
dread,  they  now,  for  the  first  time,  fully  believed 
that  monetary  ruin  had  befallen  their  father.  They 
were  civil  to  Mrs.  Chump,  and  forgiving  towards 
her  brogue,  and  her  naked  outcries  of  complaint,  and 


THE   EXTLOSION   AT   BROOKFIELD.  247 

suddenly-suggested  panic  ;  but  tlieir  pity,  save  when 
some  odd  turn  in  her  conduct  moved  them,  was 
reserved  dutifully  for  their  father.  His  wretched 
sensations  at  the  pouring  of  a  storm  of  tears  from 
the  exhausted  creature,  caused  Arabella  to  rise  and 
say  to  Mrs.  Chump,  Idndly,  "  Now  let  me  take  you 
to  bed." 

But  such  a  novel  mark  of  tender  civility 
caused  the  woman  to  exclaim :  "  Oh,  dear ! 
if  ye  don't  sound  like  wheedlin'  to  keep  me 
bUnd." 

Even  this  was  borne  with.  "  Come ;  it  will  do 
you  good  to  rest,"  said  Arabella. 

"  And  how'U  I  sleep  ?  " 

"  By  '  shutting  my  eye-peeps,' — as  I  used  to 
tell  my  old  nurse,"  said  Adela  ;  and  Mrs.  Chump, 
accustomed  to  an  occasional  (though  not  public) 
bit  of  wheedling  from  her,  was  partially  reas- 
sured. 

"  I'll  sit  with  you  till  you  do  sleep,"  said  Ara- 
beUa. 

"  Suppose,"  Mrs.  Chump  moaned,  "  suppose 
I'm  too  poor  aver  to  repay  ye  ?  If  I'm  a  bankrup'  ? 
—oh ! " 

Arabella  smiled.  "  Whatever  I  may  do  is 
certainly   not  done  for  a  remuneration,  and   such 


248  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

a  service  as  this,  at  least,  you  need  not  speak 
of." 

Mrs.  Chump's  evident  surprise,  and  doubt  of  the 
honesty  of  the  change  in  her  manner,  caused  Ara- 
bella very  acutely  to  feel  its  dishonest3^  She 
looked  at  Cornelia  with  en\j.  The  latter  lady  was 
leaning  meditativel}-,  her  arm  on  a  side  of  her 
chair,  like  a  pensive  queen,  with  a  ready,  mild,  em- 
bracing look  for  the  company.  '  Posture '  seemed 
always  to  triumph  over  action. 

Before  quitting  the  room,  Mrs.  Chump  asked 
Mr.  Pole  whether  he  would  be  up  early  the  next 
morning. 

"  Very  early, — you  beat  me,  if  you  can,"  said  he, 
aware  that  the  question  was  put  as  a  test  to  his 
sincerity. 

"  Oh,  dear  !  Suppose  it's  onnly  a  false  alarrm 
of  the  'bomunable  Mr.  Paricles — which  annybody'd 
have  listened  to,  ye  know  that !  "  said  Mrs.  Chump, 
going  forth. 

She  stopped  in  the  doorway,  and  turned  her  head 
round,  sniffing,  in  a  very  pronounced  way.  "  Oh  ! 
it's  you,"  she  flashed  on  Wilfrid  ;  "  it's  you,  my 
dear,  that  smell  so  like  poor  Chump.  Oh  !  if  we're 
not  rooned,  won't  we  dine  together !  Just  give 
me  a  kiss,  please.     The  smell  of  ye's  comfortin'." 


THE   EXPLOSION   AT   BROOKFIELD.  249 

Wilfrid  bent  his  cheek  forward,  affecting  to  laugh, 
though  the  subject  was  tragic  to  him. 

"  Oh !  perhaps  I'll  sleep,  and  not  look  in  the 
mornin'  like  that  beastly  tallow,  Mr.  Paricles  says 
I  spent  such  a  lot  of  money  on,  speculatin' — whew, 
I  hate  ut ! — and  hemp  too  !  Me  ! — Martha  Chump  ! 
Do  I  want  to  hang  myself,  and  burn  forty  thousand 
pounds  worth  o'  candles  round  my  corpse  danglin' 
there  ?  Xow,  there,  now  !  Is  that  sense  ?  And 
what'd  Pole  want  to  buy  me  all  that  grease  for  ? 
And  where'd  I  keep  ut,  I'll  ask  ye  ?  And  sure 
they  wouldn't  make  me  a  bankrup'  on  such  a  ]^ve- 
tence  as  that !  For,  where's  the  Judge  that's  got  the 
heart?" 

Having  apparently  satisfied  her  reason  with  these 
interrogations,  Mrs.  Chump  departed,  shaking  her 
head  at  Wilfrid.  "  Ye  smile  so  nice,  ye  do  !  "  by 
the  way.  Corneha  and  Adela  then  rose,  and  Wil- 
frid was  left  alone  with  his  father. 

It  was  natural  that  he  should  expect  the  moment 
for  entire  confidence  between  them  to  ha^-e  come. 
He  crossed  his  legs,  leaning  over  the  fireplace,  and 
waited.  The  old  man  perceived  him,  and  made 
certain  humming  sounds,  as  of  preparation.  Wil- 
frid was  half  tempted  to  think  he  wanted  assist- 
ance,   and   signified    attention;    upon    which    Mr. 


250  EMILIA   IN  ENGLAND. 

Pole  became  immediately  absorbed  in  profomid 
thouglit. 

''  Singular  it  is,  you  know,"  lie  said  at  last,  with  a 
candid  air,  '*  people  who  know  nothing  about  busi- 
ness have  the  oddest  ideas — no  common  sense  in 
'em !  " 

After  that  he  fell  dead  silent. 

Wilfrid  knew  that  it  would  be  hard  for  him  to 
speak.  To  encourage  him,  he  said :  "  You  mean 
Mrs.  Chump,  sir  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  silly  woman — absurd  !  No,  I  mean  all  of 
3^ou  ;  every  man  Jack,  as  Martha'd  say.  You  seem 
to  thmk but,  well !  there  !  let's  go  to  bed." 

"  To  bed  ?  "  cried  Wilfrid,  frowning. 

"Why,  when  it's  two  or  three  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  what's  an  old  fellow  to  do  ?  My  feet  are 
cold,  and  I'm  queer  in  the  back — can't  talk !  Light 
my  candle,  young  gentleman — my  candle  there, 
don't  you  see  it  ?  And  you  look  none  of  the 
freshest.  A  nap  on  jouv  pillow  '11  do  you  no 
harm." 

"  I  wanted  to  talk  to  you  a  little,  sir,"  said 
Wilfrid,  about  as  much  perplexed  as  he  was 
irritated. 

"  Now,  no  talk  of  bankers'  books  to-night ! " 
rejomed    his    father.     "I    can't    and    won't.     No 


THE   EXPLOSION   AT   BROOKFIELD.  251 

cheques  written  'tween  night  and  morning.  That's 
positive.  There  !  there's  two  fingers.  Shall 
have  three  to-morrow  morning — a  pen  in  'em, 
perhaps." 

"With  which  wretched  pleasantry  the  little  mer- 
chant nodded  to  his  son,  and  snatching  up  his 
candle,  trotted  to  the  door. 

"By  the  way,  give  a  look  round  my  room  up- 
stairs, to  see  all  right  when  you're  going  to  turn  in 
yourself,"  he  said,  hefore  disappearing. 

The  two  fingers  given  him  hy  his  father  to  shake 
at  parting,  had  told  "Wilfrid  more  than  the  words. 
And  yet  how  small  were  these  trouhles  around  him 
compared  with  what  he  himself  was  suffering  !  He 
looked  forward  to  the  bitter-sweet  hour  verging 
upon  dawn,  when  he  should  be  writing  to  Emilia 
things  to  melt  the  vilest  obduracy.  The  excite- 
ment which  had  greeted  him  on  his  arrival  at  Brook- 
field  was  to  be  thanked  for  its  having  made  him 
partiall}'  forget  his  humiliation.  He  had,  of  course, 
sufficient  rational  feeling  to  be  chagrined  by  cala- 
miiy,  but  his  dominant  passion  sucked  sustaining 
juices  from  every  passing  event. 

In  obedience  to  his  father's  request,  Wilfrid  went 
presently  in  to  the  old  man's  bed-room,  to  see  that 
all  was  right.     The  curtains  of  the  bed  were  drawn 


252  EMILIA   IX   ENGLAXT). 

close,  and  the  fire  in  the  grate  burnt  steadily. 
Calm  sleep  seemed  to  fill  the  chamber.  "Wilfrid 
was  retuing,  ^\ith  a  revived  anger  at  his  father's 
want  of  natural  confidence  in  him,  or  cowardly 
secrecy.  His  name  was  called,  and  he  stopped 
short. 

"  Yes,  sir  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Door's  shut  ?  " 

"  Shut  fast." 

The  voice,  buried  in  curtains,  came  after  a 
struggle. 

"  You've  done  this,  Wilfrid.  Now,  don't  answer  : 
— I  can't  stand  talk.  And  you  must  undo  it.  Pericles 
can,  if  he  likes.  That's  enough  for  you  to  know. 
He  can.  He  won't  see  me.  You  know  why.  If 
he  breaks  with  me — it's  a  common  case  in  any 
business — I'm  .  .  .  we're  involved  together."  Then 
followed  a  deep  sigh.  The  usual  crisp,  brisk  way 
of  his  speaking  was  resumed  in  hollow  tones  :  "  You 
must  stop  it.  Now  don't  answer.  Go  to  Pericles 
to-morrow.  You  must.  Nothing  wrong,  if  j'ou  go 
at  once." 

"  But,  sir  !  Good  Heaven  !  "  interposed  Wil- 
frid, horrified  by  the  thought  of  the  penance  here 
indicated. 

The  bed  shook  violently. 


THE   EXPLOSION   AT   BROOKFIELD.  253 

"  If  not,"  was  uttered  with  a  sort  of  muted  vehe- 
mence, "  there's  another  thing  you  can  do.  Go 
to  the  undertaker's,  and  order  coffins  for  us  all. 
There — good  night !  " 

The  bed  shook  again.  "Wilfrid  stood  eyeing  the 
mysterious  hangings,  as  if  some  dark  oracle  had 
spoken  from  behind  them.  In  fear  of  irritating  the 
old  man,  and  almost  as  much  in  fear  of  bringing  on 
himself  a  revelation  of  the  frightful  crisis  that  could 
only  be  averted  by  his  apologising  personally  to  the 
man  he  had  struck,  Wilfrid  stole  from  the  room. 


CHAPTEE  XIX. 

THE    TRAGEDY    OF    SEXTENIENT. 

There  is  a  man  among  om'  actors  here,  wlio  may 
not  be  known  to  you.  It  had  become  the  habit  of 
Sir  Purcell  Barrett's  mind  to  behold  himself  as 
under  a  peculiarly  malign  shadow.  Very  young 
men  do  the  same,  if  they  are  much  afflicted :  but 
this  is  because  they  are  still  boys  enough  to  have 
the  natural  sense  to  be  ashamed  of  ill-luck,  even 
when  they  lack  courage  to  struggle  against  it.  The 
reproaching  of  Providence  by  a  man  of  full  growth, 
comes  to  some  extent  from  his  meanness,  and 
chiefly  from  his  pride.  He  remembers  that  the  old 
gods  selected  great  heroes  whom  to  persecute,  and 
it  is  his  compensation  for  material  losses,  to  con- 
ceive himself  a  distinguished  mark  for  the  powers 
of  air.  One  who  wraps  himself  in  this  delusion 
may  have  great  qualities ;  he  cannot  be  of  a  very 
contemptible  nature;  and  in  this  place  we  wiU 
discriminate  more  closely  than  to  call  him  fool. 
Had  Sir  Purcell  sunk  or  bent  under  the  thong  that 


THE   TRAGEDY   OF   SENTIMENT.  255 

pursued  him,  he  might,  after  a  little  healthy  moan- 
ing, have  gone  along  as  others  do.  Who  knows  ? — 
though  a  much  persecuted  man,  he  might  have 
become  so  degraded  as  to  have  looked  forward  with 
cheeifiilness  to  his  dail}'-  dinner ;  still  despising,  if 
he  pleased,  the  soul  that  would  invent  a  sauce.  I 
mean  to  say,  he  would,  like  the  larger  body  of  our 
sentimentalists,  have  acquiesced  in  our  simple 
humanity,  but  without  sacrificing  a  scruple  to  its 
grossness,  or  going  arm-in-arm  with  it  by  any 
means.  Sir  Purcell,  however,  never  sank,  and 
never  bent.  He  was  invariably  erect  before  men, 
and  he  did  not  console  himself  with  a  murmur  in 
secret.  He  had  lived  much  alone ;  eating  alone ; 
thinking  alone.  To  complain  of  a  father  is,  to  a 
delicate  mind,  a  delicate  matter,  and  Sir  Purcell 
was  a  gentleman  to  all  about  him.  His  chief  afflic- 
tion in  his  youth,  therefore,  kept  him  dumb.  A 
gentleman  to  all  about  him,  he  unhappily  forgot 
what  was  due  to  his  own  nature.  Must  we  not 
speak  under  pressure  of  a  grief?  Little  people 
should  know  that  they  must :  but  then  the  primary 
task  is  to  teach  them  that  they  are  little  people.  For, 
if  they  repress  the  outcry  of  a  constant  irritation, 
and  the  complaint  against  injustice,  they  lock  up  a 
feeding  devil  in  their  hearts,  and  they  must  have 


256  EMILIA   IN   ENGL.i^s'D. 

vast  strength  to  crush  him  there.  Strength  they 
must  have  to  kill  him,  and  freshness  of  spirit  to 
live  without  him,  after  he  has  once  entertained  them 
with  his  most  comforting  discourses.  Have  you 
listened  to  him,  ever  ?  He  does  this  : — he  plays  to 
you  your  music  (it  is  he  who  first  teaches  thousands 
that  the}"  have  any  music  at  all,  so  guess  what  a 
dear  devil  he  is  !)  ;  and  when  he  has  played  this 
ravishing  melody,  he  falls  to  upon  a  burlesque  con- 
trast of  hurdy-gurdy  and  bag-pipe  squeal  and 
bellow  and  drone,  which  is  meant  for  the  music  of 
the  world.  How  far  sweeter  was  yom's !  This 
charming  devil.  Sir  Purcell  had  nursed  from  child- 
hood. 

As  a  child,  between  a  flighty  mother  and  a  father 
verging  to  insanity  from  caprice,  he  had  grown  up 
with  ideas  of  filial  duty  perplexed,  and  with  a  fitful 
love  for  either,  that  was  not  attachment :  a  baffled 
natural  love,  that  in  teaching  us  to  brood  on  the 
hardness  of  our  lot,  lays  the  foundation  for  a  per- 
nicious mystical  self-love.  He  had  waxed  preco- 
ciously philosophic,  when  still  a  junior.  His  father 
had  kept  him  by  his  side,  giving  him  no  profession 
beyond  that  of  the  obedient,  expectant  son  and  heir. 
His  first  allusion  to  the  youth's  dependency  had 
provoked  their  first  breach,  which  had  been  widened 


THE   TRAGEDY    OF    SENTIMENT.  257 

by  many  an  ostentatious  forgiveness  on  the  one 
hand,  and  a  dumbly-protesting  submission  on  the 
other.  His  mother  died  away  from  her  husband's  roof. 
The  old  man  then  sought  to  obhterate  her  utterly. 
She  left  her  boy  a  little  money,  and  the  injunction 
of  his  father  was,  that  he  was  never  to  touch  it.  He 
inherited  his  taste  for  music  from  her,  and  his  father 
vowed  that,  if  ever  he  laid  hand  upon  a  musical 
instrument  again,  he  would  be  disinherited.  All 
these  signs  of  a  vehement,  spiteful  antagonism  to 
reason,  the  young  man  might  have  treated  more  as 
his  father's  misfortune  than  his  own,  if  he  could 
only  have  brought  himself  to  acknowledge  that  such 
a  thing  as  madness  stigmatised  his  family.  But 
the  sentimental  mind  conceived  it  as  '  monstrous 
impiety'  to  bring  this  accusation  against  a  parent 
who  did  not  break  windows,  or  grin  to  deformity. 
He  behaved  towards  him  as  to  a  reasonable  person, 
and  felt  the  rebellious  rancour  instead  of  the  pity. 
Thus,  sentiment  came  in  the  way  of  pity.  By 
degrees.  Sir  Purcell  transferred  all  his  father's  mad- 
ness to  the  Fates  by  whom  he  was  persecuted. 
There  was  evidently  madness  somewhere,  as  his 
shuddering  human  nature  told  him.  It  did  not 
offend  his  sentiment  to  charge  this  upon  the  order 
of  the  universe. 


S58  EMILL\   IN   ENGLAND. 

Against  such  a  wild-hitting  madness,  or  concen- 
trated ire  of  the  superior  Powers,  Su'  Purcell  stood 
up,  taking  blow  upon  blow.  As  organist  of  Hillford 
Church,  he  brushed  his  garments,  and  put  a  2:)olish 
on  his  apparel,  with  an  energetic  humility  that 
looked  like  unconquerable  patience ;  as  though  he 
had  said  :  "  While  life  is  left  in  me,  I  will  be  seen 
•for  what  I  am."  We  will  vary  it — "For  what  I 
think  myself."  In  realit}',  he  fought  no  battle.  He 
had  been  dead-beaten  from  his  boyhood.  Like  the 
old  Spanish  Governor,  the  walls  of  whose  fortress 
had  been  thrown  down  by  an  earthquake,  and  who 
painted  streets  to  deceive  the  enemy,  he  w^as 
rendered  safe  enough  by  his  astuteness,  except 
against  a  traitor  from  within. 

One  who  goes  on  doggedly  enduring,  doggefUy 
doing  his  best,  must  subsist  on  comfort  of  a  kind 
that  is  likely  to  be  black  comfort.  The  mere  piping 
of  the  musical  devil  shall  not  suffice.  In  Sir 
Purcell's  case,  it  had  long  seemed  a  magnanimity  to 
him  that  he  should  hold  to  a  life  so  vindictively 
scourged,  and  his  comfort  was  that  he  had  it  at  his 
own  disposal.  To  know  so  much,  to  suffer,  and 
still  to  refrain,  flattered  his  pride.  "  The  term  of 
my  misery  is  in  my  hand,"  he  said,  softened  by  the 
reflection.     It  is  our  lowest  philosophy. 


TEE  TEAGEDY  OF  SEXTDIENT.        250 

But,  Tvlien  the  heart  of   a  man  so  fashioned  is 
stirred  to  love  a  woman,  it  has  a  new  vital  force, 
new  health,  and  cannot  x^lay  these   solemn  pranks. 
The  flesh,  and  all  its  fatalit}-,  claims  him.    When  Sir 
Purcell  became  acquainted  with  Cornelia,  he  found 
the  very  woman  his  heart  desired,   or  certainly  a 
most  admii-able    picture  of  her.     It  v.as,  perhaps, 
still   more  to  the   lady's   credit,    if    she   was    only 
striving  to  be  what  he  was   learning   to   worship. 
The  beneficial  change  wrought  in  him,  made  him 
enamoured  of   health}^  thinking  and  doing.      Had 
this,    as   a   result    of    sharp    mental    overhauling, 
sprung  from  himself,  there  would  have  been  hope 
for  him.     Unhappily,  it  was  dependent  on  her  who 
inspired  it.     He  resolved  that  life  should  be  put  on 
a  fresh  trial   in   her   person ;    and   expecting   that 
naturally  to  fail,  of  which  he  had  always  entertained 
a  base  conception,  he  was  perforce  brought  to  endow 
her  with  unexampled  virtues,  in  order  to  keep   any 
degree  of  confidence  tolerably  stedfast  in  his  mind. 
The  lady  accepted  the  decorations,  thus  bestowed  on 
her,  with  much  <xrsice  and  willingness.      She   con- 
sented,  little  aware  of  her  heroism,  to  shine  forth  as 
an  '  ideal ; '    and   to   this  he  wantonly  pinned   his 
faith.     Alas !  in  our  world,  where   all  things  must 
move,    it    becomes,   by-and-by,   manifest    that    an 

s  2 


260  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

*  ideal/  or  idol,  wliicli  3^011  will,  has  not  been 
gifted  with  two  legs.  "What  is,  then,  the  duty  of 
the  worshipper  ?  To  make,  as  I  should  say,  some 
compromise  between  his  superstitious  reverence  and 
his  recognition  of  facts.  Cornelia,  on  her  pedestal, 
could  not  prefer  such  a  request  plainly ;  but  it 
would  have  afforded  her  exceeding  gratification,  if 
the  man  who  adored  her  had  quietly  taken  her  up 
and  fixed  her  in  a  fresh  post,  of  his  own  choosing 
entirely,  in  the  new  circles  of  changing  events. 
Far  from  doing  that,  he  appeared  to  be  unaware 
that  they  went,  with  the  varying  days,  through 
circles,  forming  and  re-forming.  He  walked  rather 
as  a  man  down  a  lengthened  corridor,  whose  light 
to  which  he  turns  is  in  one  favourite  corner,  visible 
till  he  reaches  the  end.  What  Cornelia  was,  in  the 
first  flaming  of  his  imagination  around  her,  she  was 
always,  unaffected  by  circumstance,  to  remain.  It 
was  very  hard.  The  '  ideal '  did  feel  the  want — 
if  not  of  legs — of  a  certain  tolerant  allowance  for 
human  laws  on  the  part  of  her  worshipper ;  but  he 
was  remorselessly  reverential,  both  by  instinct  and 
of  necessity.  Women  are  never  quite  so  mad  in 
sentimentalism  as  men. 

We  have  now  looked  into  the  hazy  interior  of 
.their   systems — our   last   halt,  I   believe,  and   last 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  SENTIMENT.        201 

examination    of    macliineiy,    before    Emilia    quits 
England. 

About  the  time  of  the  pairing  of  tlie  .birds,  and 
subsequent  to  the  Brookfield  explosion,  Cornelia 
received  a  letter  from  her  lover,  bearing  the  tone 
of  a  summons.  She  was  to  meet  him  b}^  the 
decayed  sallow — the  '  fruitless  tree,'  as  he  termed 
it.  Startled  b}'  his  abruptness,  her  difficulties  made 
her  take  counsel  of  her  dignity.  "  He  knows  that 
these  clandestine  meetings  degrade  me.  He  is 
wanting  in  faith,  to  require  constant  assurances. 
He  will  not  understand  my  position!"  She  remem- 
bered the  day  at  Besworth,  of  which  Adela  (some- 
what needlessly,  perhaps)  had  told  her ;  that  it  had 
revealed  two  of  the  family,  in  situations  censurable 
before  a  gossiping  world,  however  intrinsically 
blameless.  That  day  had  been  to  the  ladies  a 
lesson  of  deference  to  opinion.  It  was  true  that 
Cornelia  had  met  her  lover  since,  but  she  was  then 
unembarrassed.  She  had  now  to  share  in  the  duties 
of  the  household — duties  abnormal,  hideous,  incre- 
dible. Her  incomprehensible  father  was  absent  in 
town.  Daily,  Wilfrid  conducted  Adela  thither  on 
mysterious  business,  and  then  ]\Irs.  Chump  was  left 
to  Arabella  and  herself  in  the  lonely  house.  Num- 
berless things  'had  to  be   said  for  the  quieting  of 


262 


EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 


this  creature,  ^vho  eveiy  morning  cnme  down  stairs 
with  the  exchimation  that  she  could  no  longer  endure 
her  state  of  uncertainty,  and  was  "  off  to  a  lawyer." 
It  was  useless  to  attempt  the  posture  of  a  reply. 
Words,  and  energetic  words,  the  woman  demanded, 
not  expostulations;  petitions  that  she  would  be 
respectful  to  the  house  before  the  household.  Yes, 
occasional]}'  (so  gross  was  she  !)  she  had  to  be  fed 
with  lies.  Arabella  and  Cornelia  heard  one  another 
mouthing  these  dreadful  things,  with  a  wretched 
feeling  of  contemptuous  compassion.  The  trial 
was  renewed  dail}^  and  it  was  a  task,  almost 
a  physical  task,  to  hold  the  woman  back  from 
London,  till  the  horn'  of  lunch  came.  If  they  kept 
her  away  from  her  bonnet  till  then,  they  were 
safe. 

At  this  meal  they  had  to  drink  cliampagne  with 
her.  Diplomatic  Wilfrid  had  issued  the  order,  with 
the  object,  first,  of  dazzling  her  vision;  and  secondly, 
to  set  the  vrheels  of  her  brain  in  swift  motion.  The 
effect  was  marvellous;  and,  had  it  not  been  for  her 
determination  never  to  drink  alone,  the  miserable 
ladies  might  have  applauded  it.  Adela,  on  the  rare 
days  when  she  was  fortunate  enough  to  reach 
Brookfield  in  time  for  dinner,  was  surprised  to 
hear  her  sisters  exclaim,  "  Oh,  the  hatefulness  of 


THE   TRAGEDY   OF    SENTIMENT.  203 

that  champagne ! "  She  enjoyed  it  extremely.  She, 
poor  thing,  had  again  to  go  through  a  round  of  cabs 
and  confectioners'  shops  in  London.  "  If  they  had 
said,  '  Oh,  the  hatefulness  of  those  buns  and  cold 
chickens  !'  "  she  thought  to  herself.  Not  objecting 
to  champagne  at  lunch  with  any  particular  vehe- 
mence, she  was  the  less  unwilling  to  tell  her 
sisters  what  she  had  to  do  for  Wilfrid  daily. 

"  Three  times  a  week  I  go  to  see  Emilia  at 
Lady  Gosstre's  town  house.  Mr.  Powys  has  gone 
to  Italy,  and  Miss  Ford  remains,  looking,  if  I  can 
read  her,  such  a  temper.  On  the  other  days  I  am 
taken  b}^  "Wilfrid  to  the  arcades,  or  we  hire  a 
brougham  to  drive  round  the  park, — for  nothing 
but  the  chance  of  seeing  that  girl  an  instant. 
Don't  tell  me,  it's  to  meet  Lady  Charlotte !  That 
lovely  and  obliging  person  it  is  certainl}'  not  my 
duty  to  undeceive.  She's  now  at  Stornley,  and 
speaks  of  our  affairs  to  everybody,  I  daresay. 
Twice  a  week  AVilfrid— oh,  quite  casually! — calls 
on  Miss  Ford,  and  is  gratified,  I  suppose;  for  this 
is  the  picture  : — There  sits  Emilia,  one  finger  in  her 
cheek,  and  the  thumb  under  her  chin,  and  she  keeps 
looking  down  so.  Opposite  is  Miss  Ford,  doing 
some  work — making  lint  for  patriots,  probably. 
Then  Wilfrid,   addressing    commonplaces    to    her ; 


264  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

and  then  Emilia's  father — a  personage,  I  assure 
3'ou,  up  against  the  window,  with  a  violin.  I  feel 
a  bitter  edge  on  my  teeth  still !  What  do  3'ou  think 
he  does  to  please  his  daughter  for  one  whole  hour  ? 
He  draws  his  fingers — does  nothing  else  ;  she  won't 
let  him ;  she  won't  hear  a  tune — up  the  strings  in 
the  most  horrible  caterwaul,  up  and  down.  It  is 
reall}^  like  a  thousand  lunatics  questioning  and 
answering,  and  is  enough  to  make  j^ou  mad;  but 
there  that  girl  sits,  listening.  Exactly  in  this 
attitude — so.  She  scarcely  ever  looks  uj).  IMy 
brother  talks,  and  occasionally  steals  a  glance 
that  way.  AVe  passed  one  whole  hour  as  I  have 
described.  In  the  middle  of  it,  I  happened  to 
look  at  "Wilfrid's  face,  while  the  violin  was  wailing 
down.  I  fancied  I  heard  the  despair  of  one  of 
those  huge  masks  in  a  j)antomime.  I  was  almost 
choked." 

"When  Adela  had  related  thus  much,  she  had  to 
prevent  downright  revolt,  and  spoil  her  own  game, 
by  stating  that  Wilfrid  did  not  leave  the  house  daily 
for  his  special  pleasure,  and  a  word,  as  to  the  efforts 
he  was  maldng  to  see  Mr.  Pericles,  convinced  the 
ladies  that  his  situation  was  as  pitiable  as  their 
own. 

Cornelia  refused  to  obe}^  her  lover's  mandate,  and 


THE    TRAGEDY    OF    SENTDIENT.  26.J 

wrote  briefly.  She  would  not  condescend  to  allude 
to  the  unutterable  wretchedness  ajfflicting  her,  but 
spoke  of  her  duty  to  her  father  being  foremost  in 
her  prayers  for  strength.  Sir  Purcell  interpreted 
this  as  indicating  the  beginning  of  their  alienation. 
He  chid  her  gravely  in  an  otherwise  pleasant  letter. 
She  was  wrong  to  base  her  whole  reply  upon  the 
little  sentence  of  reproach,  but  self-justification  was 
necessary  to  her  spirit.  Indeed,  an  involuntary 
compai'ison  of  her  two  suitors  was  forced  on  her, 
and,  dry  as  was  Sir  Twickenham's  mind,  she  could 
not  but  acknowledge  that  he  had  behaved  with  an 
extraordinary  courtesy,  amounting  to  chivalry,  in 
his  suit.  On  two  occasions  he  had  declined  to  let 
her  be  pressed  to  decide.  He  came  to  the  house, 
and  went,  like  an  ordinary  visitor.  She  was  in- 
debted to  him  for  that  splendid  luxury  of  indecision, 
which  so  few  of  the  maids  of  earth  enjoy  for  a 
lengthened  term.  The  rude  shakings  given  her  by 
Sir  Purcell,  at  a  time  when  she  needed  all  her 
power  of  dreaming,  to  support  the  horror  of  accu- 
mulated facts,  was  almost  resented.  "  He  as  much 
as  says  he  doubts  me,  when  this  is  what  I  endm-e  !  " 
she  cried  to  herself,  as  Mrs.  Chump  ordered  her 
champagne-glass  to  be  filled,  with  "  Now,  Cornelia, 
my  dear  ;  if  it's  bad  luck  we're  in  for,  there's  nothin' 


266  E:^^LIA  in  exgland. 

cheats  lit  like  champagne,"  and  she  had  to  put  the 
(to  her)  nauseous  huhhles  to  her  lips.  Sir  Purcell 
had  not  heen  told  of  her  tribulations,  and  he  had  not 
expressed  any  doubt  of  her  truth ;  but  sentimen- 
talists can  read  one  another  with  peculiar  accuracy 
through  their  bewitching  gauzes.  She  read  his 
unwritten  doubt,  and  therefore  expected  her  un- 
written misery  to  be  read.  So  it  is  when  you  play 
at  Life  !  When  you  will  not  go  straight,  you  get 
into  this  twisting  maze.  Now  he  -wrote  coldly,  and 
she  had  to  repress  a  feeling  of  resentment  at  that 
also.  She  ascribed  the  chano-es  of  his  tone,  funda- 
mentally  to  want  of  faith  in  her,  and  absolutely, 
during  the  struggle  she  underwent,  she  by  this 
means  somehow  strengthened  her  idea  of  his  own 
faithfulness.  She  w^ould  have  phrased  her  pro- 
jected line  of  conduct  thus  :  *'  I  owe  every  appear- 
ance of  assent  to  my  poor  father's  scheme,  that  will 
spare  his  health.  I  owe  him  everything,  save  the 
positive  sacrifice  of  my  hand."  In  fact,  she  meant 
to  do  her  duty  to  her  father  up  to  the  last  moment, 
and  then,  on  the  extreme  verge,  to  remember  her 
duty  to  her  lover.  But  she  could  not  write  it  down, 
and  tell  her  lover  as  much.  She  knew  instinctively 
that,  facing  the  eyes,  it  would  not  look  well.  Per- 
haps, at  another   season,  she  would  have  acted  and 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  SENTIMENT.         267 

thought  -uith  less  folly;  but  the  dull  pam  of  her 
great  uncertainty,  and  the  little  stinging  whips  daily 
applied  to  her,  exaggerated  her  tendency  to  self- 
deception.  "  "SVho  has  ever  had  to  bear  so  much  ? 
— what  slave  ?  "  she  would  exclaim,  as  a  refuge  from 
the  edge  of  his  veiled  irony.  For  a  slave  has,  if  not 
selection  of  what  he  will  eat  and  drink,  the  option 
of  rejecting  what  is  distasteful.  Cornelia  had  not. 
She  had  to  act  a  part  every  day  with  Mrs.  Chump, 
while  all  those  she  loved,  and  respected,  and  clung 
to,  were  acting  in  the  same  conspiracy.  The  conso- 
lation of  hating,  or  of  despising,  her  tormentress  was 
denied.  The  thought  that  the  poor  helpless  crea- 
ture had  been  possibly  ruined  by  them,  chastened 
Cornelia's  reflections  mightily,  and  taught  her  to 
w'alk  very  humbly  through  the  duties  of  the  day. 
Her  powders  of  endurance  were  stretched  to  their 
utmost.  A  sublime  affliction  would,  as  she  felt 
bitterly,  have  enlarged  her  soul.  This  sordid 
misery  narrowed  it.  Why  did  not  her  lover,  if  his 
love  was  passionate,  himself  cut  the  knot — claim 
her,  and  put  her  to  a  quick  decision  ?  She  con- 
ceived that  were  he  to  bring  on  a  supreme  crisis, 
her  heart  would  declare  itself.  But  he  appeared  to 
be  wanting  in  that  form  of  courage.  Does  it 
become  a  beggar  to  act  such   valiant  parts?  per- 


268  EMILIA   Ds'   EXGL.\XD. 

haps  he  was  even  then  repl3dng  from  his  stuffy 
lodgmgs. 

The  Spiing  was  putting  out  primroses, — the  first 
handwriting  of  the  year, — as  Sir  Purcell  wrote  to 
her  prettily.  Desire  for  fresh  air,  and  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  his  beloved,  sent  him  on  a  journey 
down  to  Hillford.  Near  the  gates  of  the  Hillford 
station,  he  passed  AVilfrid  and  Adela,  hurrying  to 
catch  tlie  up -train,  and  received  no  recognition. 
His  face  scarcely  changed  colour,  but  the  birds  on 
a  sudden  seemed  to  pipe  far  away  from  him.  He 
asked  himself,  presently,  what  were  those  black  cir- 
cular spots  which  flew  chasing  along  the  meadows 
and  the  lighted  walks.  It  was  with  an  effort  that 
he  got  the  landscape  close  about  his  eyes,  and  re- 
membered famiUar  places.  He  walked  all  day, 
making  occupation  by  directing  his  steps  to  divers 
eminences  that  gave  a  view  of  the  Brookfield  chim- 
neys. After  night-fall  he  found  himself  in  the  fir- 
wood,  approaching  the  '  fruitless  tree.'  He  had 
leaned  against  it  musmgly,  for  a  time,  when  he 
heard  voices,  as  of  a  couple  confident  in  their 
privacy. 

The  footman,  Gainsford,  was  courting  a  maid  of 
the  Tinley's,  and  here,  being  midway  between  the 
two  houses,  they  met.     He   had  to   obtain  pardon 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  SENTDIEXT.         269 

for  tardiness,  by  saying  that  dinner  at  Brookfield 
had  been  delayed  for  the  return  of  Mr.  Pole.  The 
damsel's  questions  showed  her  far  advanced  in 
knowledge  of  affairs  at  Brookfield,  and  may  account 
for  Laui-a  Tinley's  gatherings  of  latest  intelligence 
concerning  those  '  odd  girls,'  as  she  impudentl}^ 
called  the  three. 

"  Oh  !  don't  you  hsten  !  "  was  the  comment  pro- 
nounced on  Gainsford's  stock  of  information.  But, 
h^  told  nothing  signally  new.  She  wished  to  hear 
something  new  and  striking,  "  because,"  she  said, 
"  when  I  unpin  Miss  Laura  at  night,  I'm  as  likely 
as  not  to  get  a  silk  dress  that  ain't  been  worn  more 
than  half-a-dozen  times— if  I  manage.  AVhen  I 
told  her  that  Mr.  Albert,  her  brother,  had  dined  at 
yom-  place  last  Thursday — demeaning  of  himself,  I 
do  think — there  ! — I  got  a  pair  of  silk  stockings, — 
not  letting  her  see  I  knew  what  it  was  for,  of  course  ! 
and  about  Mrs.  Dump, — Stump  ; — I  can't  recollect 
the  woman's  name  ;  and  her  calling  of  your  master 
a  bankrupt,  right  out,  and  wanting  her  money  of 
him, — there  !  if  Miss  Laura  didn't  give  me  a  pair  of 
lavender  kid-gloves  out  of  her  box ! — and  I  wish 
you  would  leave  my  hands  alone,  when  you  know  I 
shouldn't  be  so  silly  as  to  wear  them  in  the  dark ; 
and  for  you,  indeed  !  " 


270  EMILIA   IX   ENGLAND. 

But  Gainsford  persisted,  upon  -whicli  there  ivas 
fooling.  All  this  was  too  childish  for  Sir  Purcell 
to  think  it  necessary  to  give  warning  of  his  pre- 
sence. They  passed,  and  when  they  had  gone  a 
short  YN-ay  the  damsel  cried,  "  Well,  that  is  some- 
thing," and  stopped.  *'  Married  in  a  month ! " 
she  exclaimed.  "And  you  don't  know  which 
one  ?  " 

"  No,^'  returned  Gainsford  ;  "  master  said  '  one 
of  you'  as  thej'-  was  at  dinner,  just  as  I  come  iuto 
the  room.  He  was  in  jolly  spirits,  and  kept  going 
so  :  '  What's  a  month  ! — champagne,  Gainsford,' 
and  you  should  have  seen  Mrs. — not  Stump,  but 
Chump.  She'll  be  tipsy  to-night,  and  I  shall  bust 
if  I  have  to  carry  of  her  up-stairs.  Well,  she  is 
fun! — she  don't  mind  handin'  you  a  five-shilling 
piece  when  she's  done  tender :  but  I  have  nearly 
lost  my  place  two  or  three  time  along  of  that 
woman.  She'd  split  logs  with  laughing  : — no  need 
of  beetle  and  wedges  !  *  Och  ! '  she  sings  out,  '  b}' 
the  piper  ! ' — and  Miss  Cornelia  sitting  there — and, 
Arrah  ! — bother  the  woman's  Irish,"  (thus  Gainsford 
gave  up  the  effort  at  imitation,  with  a  s]oirited 
Briton's  mild  contempt  for  what  he  could  not  do,) 
"  she  pointed  out  Miss  Cornelia  and  said  she  was 
like  the  tinker's  doc; : — there's  the  bone  he  wants 


THE    TRAGEDY    OF    SENTIMENT.  ri  i  i 

himself,  and  the  bone  he  don't  want  anybody  else 
to  have.     Aha  !  ain't  it  good  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  the  tinker's  dog !  won't  I  remember  that ! " 
said  the  damsel,  "  she  canH  be  such  a  fool." 

*'  Well,  I  don't  know,*'  Gainsford  meditated  criti- 
cally. "  She  is  ;  and  yet  she  ain't,  if  you  under- 
stand me.  What  I  feel  about  her  is — hang  it !  she 
makes  ye  laugh." 

Sir  Purcell  moved  from  the  shadow  of  the  tree 
as  noiselessly  as  he  could,  so  that  this  enamoured 
couple  might  not  be  disturbed.  He  had  already 
heard  more  than  he  quite  excused  himself  for 
hearing  in  such  a  manner,  and  having  decided  not 
to  arrest  the  man  and  make  him  relate  exactly  what 
Mr.  Pole  had  spoken  that  evening  at  the  Brook - 
field  dinner-table,  he  hurried  on  his  return  to  town. 

It  was  not  till  he  had  sight  of  his  poor  home ;  the 
sohtary  companj^  of  chairs ;  the  sofa  looking  bony 
and  comfortless  as  an  old  female  house-drudge;  the 
table  with  his  desk  on  it;  and,  through  folding-doors, 
his  cold  and  narrow  bed ;  not  till  then  did  the  fact 
of  his  gi'eat  loss  stand  before  him,  and  accuse  him  of 
living.  He  seated  himself  methodicall}^  and  wrote 
to  Cornelia.  His  fancy  pictured  her  now  as  sharp 
to  ever}^  turn  of  language  and  fall  of  periods  :  and  to 
satisfy  his  imagined,  rigorous  critic,  he  wrote  much 


272  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

in  the  style  of  a  newspaper  leading  article.  No 
one  would  have  thought  that  tragic  meaning  under- 
laid those  choice  and  sounding  phrases.  On  re- 
perusing  the  composition,  he  rejected  it,  but  only 
to  j)roduce  one  of  a  similar  cast.  He  could  not 
get  to  nature  in  his  tone.  He  spoke  aloud  a  little 
sentence  now  and  then,  that  had  the  ring  of  a 
despairing  tenderness.  Nothing  of  the  sort  in- 
habited his  written  words,  wherein  a  strained  philo- 
sophy and  ii-onic  resignation  went  on  stilts.  "I 
should  desire  to  see  you  once  before  I  take  a  step 
that  some  have  not  considered  more  than  commonly 
serious,"  came  towards  the  conclusion;  and  the 
idea  was  toyed  with  till  he  signed  his  name.  ''  A 
plunge  into  the  deep  is  of  little  moment  to  one  who 
has  been  stripped  of  all  clothing.  Is  he  not  a 
wretch  who  stands  and  shivers  still  ? ''  This  letter, 
ending  with  a  short  and  not  imperious,  or  even 
urgent,  request  for  an  interview,  on  the  morrow  by 
the  '  fruitless  tree,'  he  sealed  for  delivery  into 
Cornelia's  hands  some  hours  before  the  time  ap- 
pointed. He  then  wrote  a  clear  business  letter  to 
his  lawyer,  and  one  of  studied  ambiguity  to  a 
cousin  on  his  mother's  side.  His  father's  brother, 
Percival  Barrett,  to  whom  the  estates  had  gone,  had 
offered   him  an  annuity  of  five  hundred   pounds: 


THE   TRAGEDY   OF   SENTIMENT.  273 

"  thougli  he  had,  as  his  nephew  was  aware,  a  large 
family/'  Sir  Purcell  had  repHed :  "  Let  me  he  the 
first  to  consider  your  family,"  rejecting  the  hene- 
Tolence.  He  now  addressed  his  cousin,  sajing : 
''  What  would  you  think  of  one  who  accepts  such  a 
gift  ? — of  me,  were  jou  to  hear  that  I  had  howed 
my  head  and  extended  my  hand  ?  Think  this,  if 
ever  you  hear  of  it:  that  I  have  acceded  for  the 
sake  of  winning  the  highest  prize  humanit}^  can 
bestow :  that  I  certainly  would  not  have  done  it 
for  aught  less  than  the  highest."  After  that  he 
went  to  his  narrow  bed.  His  determination  was  to 
write  to  his  uncle,  swallowing  bitter  pride,  and  to 
live  a  pensioner,  if  only  Cornelia  came  to  her  tryst, 
*'  the  last  he  would  ask  of  her,"  as  he  told  her. 
Once  face  to  face  with  his  beloved,  he  had  no  doubt 
of  his  power ;  and  this  feeling  which  he  knew  her 
to  share,  made  her  reluctance  to  meet  him  more 
darkly  suspicious.  As  he  lay  in  the  little  black 
room,  he  thought  of  how  she  would  look  when 
a  bride,  and  of  the  peerless  beauty  towering  over 
any  shades  of  earthliness  which  she  would  present. 
His  heated  fancy  conjured  up  every  device  and 
charm  of  sacredness  and  adoring  rapture  about 
that  white  veiled  shape,  until  her  march  to  the 
altar   assumed   the    character   of    a   religious   pro- 

VOL.  III.  T 


274  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

cession — a  sight  to  awe  mankind !  And  where, 
when  she  stood  before  the  minister  in  her  saintly 
humility,  grave,  and  white,  and  tall — ^where  was 
the  man  whose  heart  was  now  racing  for  that  goal 
at  her  right  hand  ?  He  felt  at  the  troubled  heart 
and  touched  two  fingers  on  the  rib,  mock-quietingly, 
and  smiled.  Then  with,  great  deliberation  he  rose, 
lit  a  candle,  unlocked  a  case  of  pocket-pistols,  and 
loaded  them:  but  a  second  idea  coming  into  his 
head,  he  drew  the  bullet  out  of  one,  and  lay  down 
again  with  a  luxurious  speculation  on  the  choice 
any  hand  might  possibly  make  of  the  life-sparing 
or  death-giving  of  those  two  weapons.  In  his  next 
half- slumber  he  was  twice  staiiled  by  a  report  of 
fire-arms  in  a  church,  when  a  crowd  of  veiled 
women  and  masked  men  rushed  to  the  opening, 
and  a  woman  throwing  up  the  veil  from  her  face 
knelt  to  a  corpse  that  she  lifted  without  effort,  and 
weeping,  laid  it  in  a  grave,  where  it  rested  and 
was  at  peace,  though  multitudes  hurried  over  it, 
and  new  stars  came  and  went,  and  the  winds  were 
strange  with  new  tongues.  The  sleeper  saw  the 
morning  upon  that  corpse  when  light  struck  his 
eyelids,  and  lie  awoke  like  a  man  who  knew  no 
care.  His  landlady's  little  female  scrubber  was 
workinrr  at  the  crate  in  his  sitting-room.     He  had 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  SENTDIENT.        275 

had  many  a  struggle  to  prevent  serrice  of  this 
nature  being  done  for  him  by  one  of  the  sex — at 
least,  to  prevent  it  within  liis  hearing  and  sight. 
He  called  to  her  to  desist ;  but  she  replied  that  she 
had  her  mistresses  orders.  Thereupon  he  main- 
tained that  the  grate  did  not  want  scrubbing.  The 
girl  took  this  to  be  a  matter  of  opinion,  not  a 
challenge  to  controversy,  and  continued  her  work 
in  silence.  Instated  by  the  noise,  but  anxious  not 
to  seem  harsh,  he  said  :  "  AYhat  on  earth  are  you 
about,  when  there  was  no  fire  there  yesterday  ?  '^ 

"  There  ain't  no  stuff  for  a  fii'e  now,  sir,"  said 
she. 

"  I  tell  you  I  did  not  Hght  it." 

"  It's  been  and  lit  itself  then,"  she  mumbled. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  you  found  the  fire  burnt 
out,  when  you  entered  the  room  this  morning  ?  " 

She  answered  that  she  had  found  it  so,  and  lots 
of  burnt  paper  lying  about. 

The  symbolism  of  this  fire  burnt  out,  that  had 
warmed  and  cheered  none,  oppressed  his  fancy,  and 
he  left  the  small  maid-of-all-work  to  triumph  with 
black-lead  and  brushes. 

She  sung  out,  when  she  had  done  :  "If  you  please, 
sir,  missus  have  had  a  hamper  up  from  the  country, 
and  would  you  like  a  country  aig,  which  is  quite 

T    2 


276  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

fresh,  and  new  lay.  And  missus  say,  she  can't 
trust  the  bloaters  about  here  bein'  Yarmouth,  but 
there's  a  soft  roe  in  one  she've  squeezed ;  and  am  I 
to  stop  a  water-cress  woman,  when  the  last  one  sold 
you  them,  and  all  the  leaves  jellied  behind  'em,  so 
as  no  washin'  could  save  you  from  swallowin'  some, 
missus  say  ?  " 

Sir  Purcell  rolled  over  on  his  side.  "Is  this 
going  to  be  my  epitaph  ?  "  he  groaned  ;  for  he  was 
not  a  man  particular  in  his  diet,  or  exacting  in 
choice  of  roes,  or  panting  for  freshness  in  an 
egg.  He  wondered  what  his  landlady  could  mean 
by  sending  up  to  him,  that  morning  of  all  others,  to 
tempt  his  appetite  after  her  fashion.  "  I  thought  I 
remembered  eating  nothing  but  toast  in  this  place ;" 
he  observed  to  himself.  A  grunting  answer  had  to 
be  given  to  the  little  maid,  "  Toast  as  usual."  She 
appeared  satisfied,  but  returned  again,  when  he  was 
in  his  bath,  to  ask  whether  he  had  said,  "  No  toast, 
to-day?" 

"  Toast  till  the  day  of  my  death — ^tell  your  mis- 
tress that ! "  he  replied ;  and  partly  from  shame  at 
his  unaccountable  vehemence,  he  paused  in  his 
sponging,  meditated,  and  chilled.  An  association 
of  toast  with  spectral  things  grew  in  his  mind, 
when  presently  the  girl's  voice  was  heard  :  "  Please, 


THE   TRAGEDY   OF   SENTIMENT.  277 

sir,  you  did  say  you'd  have  toast,  or  not,  this  morn- 
ing ? "  It  cost  him  an  effort  to  answer  simply, 
"  Yes." 

That  she  should  continue,  "  Not^  sir  ?  "  appeared 
like  perversity. 

"Well,  no;  never  mind  it  this  morning,"  said 
he. 

''Not  this  morning,"  she  repeated. 

"  '  Then  it  will  not  be  till  the  day  of  your  death, 
as  you  said,'  she  is  thinking  that,"  was  the  idea 
running  in  his  brain,  and  he  was  half  ready  to  cry 
out  "  Stop,"  and  renew  his  order  for  toast,  that  he 
might  seem  consecutive.  The  childishness  of  the 
wish  made  him  ask  himself  what  it  mattered.  "  I 
said  '  Not  till  the  day ; '  so,  none  to-day  would  mean 
that  I  have  reached  the  day."  Shivering  with  the 
wet  on  his  pallid  skin,  he  thought  this  over. 

His  landlady  had  used  her  discretion,  and  there 
was  toast  on  the  table.  A  beam  of  Spring's  morn- 
ing sunlight  illuminated  the  toast-rack.  He  sat, 
and  ate,  and  munched  the  doubt  whether  "  not  till " 
included  the  final  day,  or  stopped  short  of  it.  By 
this,  the  state  of  his  brain  may  be  conceived.  A 
longing  for  beauty,  and  a  dark  sense  of  an  inca- 
pacity to  thoroughly  enjoy  it,  tormented  him.  He 
sent  for  his  landlady's  canary,  and  the  ready  shrill 


278  EMILIA   IN  ENGLA^T). 

song  of  the  bird  persuaded  him  that  much  of  the 
charm  of  music  is  wilfully  swelled  by  ourselves,  and 
can  be  by  ourselves  withdrawn  :  that  is  to  say,  the 
great  charm  and  spell  of  sweet  sounds  is  assisted 
by  the  force  of  our  imaginations.  What  is  that 
force  ? — the  heat  and  torrent  of  the  blood.  "When 
that  exists  no  more — to  one  without  hope,  for 
instance — what  is  music  or  beauty  ?  Intrinsically, 
they  are  next  to  nothing.  He  argued  it  out  so,  and 
convinced  himself  of  his  own  delusions,  till  his 
hand,  being  m  the  sunlight,  gave  him  a  pleasant 
warmth.  "  That's  somethiug  we  all  love,"  he  said, 
glancing  at  the  blue  sky  above  the  roofs.  "  But 
there's  little  enough  of  it  in  this  climate,"  he 
thought,  with  an  eye  upon  the  darker  corners  of  his 
room.  When  he  had  eaten,  he  sent  word  to  his 
landlady  to  make  up  his  week's  bill.  The  week  was 
not  at  an  end,  and  that  good  woman  appeared  before 
him,  astonished,  saying :  "  To  be  sure,  your  habits 
is  regular,  but  there's  little  items  one  can't  guess 
at,  and  how  make  out  a  bill,  Sir  Purcy,  and  no 
items  ?" 

He  nodded  his  head. 

*'  The  country  again  ?  "  she  asked,  smilmgly. 

*'  I  am  going  down  there,"  he  said. 

"  And  beautiful  ^at  this  time  of   the  year,  it  is ! 


THE   TRAGEDY   OF   SE^TTIMENT.  279 

thougli,  for  market  gardening,  London  beats  any 
country  I  ever  knew ;  and  if  you  like  creature  com- 
forts, I  always  say,  stop  in  London  !  And  then  the 
policemen  !  who  really  are  the  greatest  comfort  of 
all  to  us  poor  women,  and  seem  sent  from  above 
especially  to  protect  our  weakness.  I  do  assure  you, 
Sir  Purcy,  I  feel  it,  and  never  knew  a  right-minded 
woman  that  did  not.  And  how  on  earth  our  grand- 
mothers contrived  to  get  about  without  them !  But 
there !  people  who  lived  before  us  do  seem  like  the 
most  i^?icomfortable  !  AVhen — my  goodness !  we 
come  to  think  there  was  some  lived  before  tea ! 
Why,  as  I  say  over  almost  every  cup  I  drink,  it 
ain't  to  be  realised.  It  seem  almost  wicked  to  say 
it.  Sir  Purcy;  but  it's  my  opinion  there  ain't  a 
Christian  woman  who's  not  made  more  of  a  Chris- 
tian through  her  tea.  And  a  man  who  beats  his 
wife — my  first  question  is,  '  Do  he  take  his  tea 
regular  ?  '  For,  depend*  upon  it,  that  man  is  not  a 
tea-drinker  at  all." 

He  let  her  talk  away,  feeling  oddly  pleased  by 
this  mundane  chatter,  as  was  she  to  pour  forth  her 
inmost  sentiments  to  a  baronet. 

"When  she  said:  *' Your  fire  shall  be  liglited  to- 
night to  welcome  you,"  the  man  looked  uj),  and  was 
going  to  request  that  the  trouble  might  be  spared, 


280  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND. 

but  nodded.  His  ghost  saw  the  burning  fire  await- 
ing him.  Or  how,  if  it  sparkled  merrily,  and  he 
beheld  it  with  his  human  eyes  that  night?  His 
beloved  would  then  have  touched  him  with  her 
hand — yea,  brought  the  dead  to  life  !  He  jumped 
to  his  feet,  and  dismissed  the  worth}^  dame.  On 
both  sides  of  him,  '  Yes,'  and  '  No,'  seemed  press- 
ing like  two  hostile  powers  that  battled  for  his 
body.  They  shrieked  in  his  ears,  plucked  at  his 
fingers.  He  heard  them  hushing  deeply  as  he  went 
to  his  pistol-case,  and  drew  forth  one — he  knew  not 
which. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

AN   ADVANCE    AND    A    CHECK. 

On  a  wild  April  morning,  Emilia  rose  from  her 
bed  and  called  to  mind  a  day  of  the  last  year's 
spring  when  she  had  watched  the  cloud  streaming 
up,  and  felt  that  it  was  the  curtain  of  an  unknown 
glory.  But  now,  it  wore  the  aspect  of  her  life 
itself,  with  nothing  hidden  behind  those  stormy 
folds,  save  peace.  South-westward  she  gazed,  eyeing 
eagerly  the  struggle  of  twisting  vapour ;  long  flying 
edges  of  silver  went  by,  and  mounds  of  faint  crimson, 
and  here  and  there  a  closing  space  of  blue,  swift  like 
a  thought  of  home  to  a  soldier  in  action.  The 
heavens  were  as  a  battle-field.  Emilia  shut  her 
lips  hard,  to  check  an  impulse  of  prayer  for  Merthyr 
fighting  in  Italy  :  for  he  was  in  Italy,  and  she  once 
more  among  the  Monmouth  hills :  he  was  in  Italy 
fighting,  and  she  chained  here  to  her  miserable 
promise !  Three  days  after  she  had  given  the 
promise  to  Wilfrid,  Merthyr  left,  shaking  her  hand 
like  any  common  friend.     Georgiana  remained  by 


282  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND. 

Lis  desire  to  protect  her.  Emilia  had  written  to 
AVilfrid  for  release,  but  being  no  apt  letter -writer, 
and  hating  the  task,  she  was  soon  involved  by  him. 
in  a  complication  of  bewildering  sentiments,  some 
of  which  she  supposed  she  was  bound  to  feel,  while 
perhaps  one  or  two  she  did  feel,  at  the  summons. 
The  effect  was  that  she  lost  the  true  wording  of  her 
blunt  petition  for  release :  she  could  no  longer  put 
it  bluntly.  But  her  heart  revolted  the  more,  and 
gave  her  sharp  eyes  to  see  into  his  selfishness. 
The  purgatory  of  her  days  with  Georgiana,  when 
the  latter  was  kept  back  from  her  brother  in  his 
peril,  spurred  Emilia  to  renew  her  appeal ;  but  she 
found  that  all  she  said  drew  her  into  unexpected 
traps  and  pitfalls.  There  was  only  one  thing  she 
could  say  plainl}" :  "  I  want  to  go."  If  she  repeated 
this,  Wilfrid  was  ready  ^ith  citations  from  her 
letters,  wherein  she  had  said  '  this,'  and  '  that,' 
and  many  other  phrases.  His  epistolar}^  power  and 
skill  in  arguing  his  own  case  were  very  creditable  to 
him.  Affected  as  Emilia  was  by  other  sensations, 
she  could  not  combat  the  idea  strenuously  suggested 
by  him,  that  he  had  reason  to  complain  of  her 
behaviour.  He  admitted  his  special  faults,  but,  by 
distinctly  tracing  them  to  their  origin,  he  compla- 
cently hinted  the  excuse  for  them.     Moreover,  and 


AN  ADVANCE  AND  A  CHECK.         283 

with  real  artistic  ability,  lie  painted  such  a  senti- 
mental halo  round  the  *  sacredness  of  her  j^ledged 
word,'  that  Emilia  could  not  resist  a  superstitious 
notion  about  it,  and  about  what  the  breaking  of  it 
would  impl3\  Georgiana  had  removed  her  do^Yn  to 
Monmouth  to  be  out  of  his  way.  A  constant  flight 
of  letters  pursued  them  both,  for  Wilfrid  was  far  too 
clever  to  allow  letters  in  his  hand-writing  to  come 
for  one  alone  of  two  women  shut  up  in  a  countr}'- 
house  together.  He  saw  how  the  letterless  one 
would  sit  speculating  shrewdly  and  spitefully;  so 
he  was  careful  to  amuse  his  mystified  Dragon,  while 
he  drew  nearer  and  nearer  to  his  gold  apple.  An- 
other object  was,  that  by  getting  Georgiana  to 
consent  to  become  in  part  his  confidante,  he  made 
it  almost  a  point  of  honour  for  her  to  be  secret 
towards  Lady  Charlotte. 

At  last  a  morning  came  with  no  Brookfield  letter 
for  either  of  them.  The  letters  stopped  from  that 
time.  It  was  almost  as  if  a  great  buzzing  had 
ceased  in  Emilia's  ears,  and  she  now  heard  her  own 
sensations  clearly.  To  Georgiana's  surprise,  she 
manifested  no  apprehension  or  regret.  "  Or  else," 
the  lady  thought,  "  she  wears  a  mask  to  me  ;  "  and 
certainly  it  was  a  pale  face  that  Emilia  w^as  begin- 
ning to  wear.     At   last   came   April  and   its   wild 


284  EMILIA   IN  ENGLA2s^D. 

morning.  No  little  female  hypocrisies  passed  be- 
tween them  when  they  met ;  they^  shook  hands  at 
arm's  length  by  the  breakfast-table.  Then  Emilia 
said :  "  I  am  ready  to  go  to  Italy :  I  will  go  at  once." 

Georgiana  looked  straight  at  her,  thinking  :  "  This 
is  a  fit  of  indignation  with  Wilfrid."  She  answered: 
"  Italy  !  I  fancied  you  had  forgotten  there  was  such 
a  country." 

*'  I  don't  forget  my  country  and  my  friends," 
said  Emilia. 

"  At  least,  I  must  ask  the  ground  of  so  unexpected 
a  resolution,"  was  rejoined. 

"  Do  you  remember  what  Merthyr  wrote  in  his 
letter  from  Arona  ?  How  long  it  takes  to  under- 
stand the  meaning  of  some  words  !  He  says  that  I 
should  not  follow  an  impulse  that  is  not  the  impulse 
of  all  my  nature — myself  altogether.  Yes  !  I  know 
what  that  means,  now.  And  he  tells  me  that  my 
life  is  worth  more  than  to  be  bound  to  the  pledge  of 
a  silly  moment.  It  is  !  He,  Georgey,  unkind  that 
you  are  ! — he  does  not  distrust  me  ;  but  always 
advises  and  helps  me :  Merthj-r  luaits  for  me.  I 
cannot  be  instantly  ready  for  every  meaning  in  the 
world.  What  I  want  to  do,  is,  to  see  Wilfrid :  if 
not,  I  will  write  to  him.  I  will  tell  him  that  I 
intend  to  break  my  promise." 


AN  ADVANCE  AND  A  CHECK.         285 

A  light  of  unaffected  pride  shone  from  the  girl's 
face,  as  she  threw  down  this  gauntlet  to  senti- 
mentalism. 

"And  if  he  objects  ?"  said  Georgiana. 

"If  he  objects,  what  can  happen?  If  he  objects 
by  letter,  I  am  gone.  I  shall  not  write  for  permis- 
sion. I  shall  write  what  my  will  is.  If  I  see  him, 
and  he  objects,  I  can  look  into  his  eyes  and  say 
what  I  think  right.  Why,  I  have  lived  like  a  frozen 
thing  ever  since  I  gave  him  my  word.  I  have  felt 
at  times  like  a  snake  hissing  at  my  folly.  I  think  I 
have  felt  something  like  men  wdien  they  swear." 

Georgiana's  features  expressed  a  slight  but  per- 
ceptible disgust.  Emilia  continued  humbly  :  "  For- 
give me.  I  wish  you  to  know  how  I  hate  the  word 
I  gave  that  separates  me  from  Merthyr  in  my  Italy, 
and  makes  you  dislike  your  poor  Emilia.  You 
do.  I  have  pardoned  it,  though  it  was  twenty  stabs 
a  day." 

"  But  why,  if  this  promise  was  so  hateful  to  you, 
did  you  not  break  it  before  ?  "  asked  Georgiana. 

**  I  had  not  the  courage,"  Emilia  stooped  her 
head  to  confess ;  '*  and  besides,"  she  added,  curi- 
ously half-closing  her  eyelids,  as  one  does  to  look 
on  a  minute  object,  "  I  could  not  see  through  it 
before." 


286  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAI^. 

"  If,"  suggested  Georgiaiia  "  you  break  j^our 
word,  you  release  him  from  his." 

"  No !  if  he  cannot  see  the  difference,"  cried 
Emilia,  wildl}^  "  then  let  him  keep  away  from  me 
for  ever,  and  he  shall  not  have  the  name  of  friend  ! 
Is  there  no  difference — I  wish  you  would  let  me  cry 
out  as  they  do  in  Shakespeare,  Georgey  !  "  Emilia 
laughed  to  cover  her  vehemence.  "  I  want  some- 
thing more  than  our  way  of  talking,  to  witness  that 
there  is  such  a  difference  between  us.  Am  I  to  live 
here  till  all  my  feelings  are  burnt  out,  and  my  very 
soul  is  only  a  spark  in  a  log  of  old  wood?  and 
to  keep  him  from  murdering  my  countrymen,  or 
flogging  the  women  of  Italy !  God  knows  what 
those  Austrians  would  make  him  do.  He  changes. 
He  would  easily  become  an  Austrian.  I  have 
heard  him  once  or  twice,  and  if  I  had  shut  my 
eyes,  I  might  have  declared  an  Austrian  spoke. 
I  wanted  to  keep  him  here,  but  it  is  not  right 
that  I — I  should  be  caged  till  I  scarcely  feel  my 
finger-ends,  or  know  that  I  breathe  sensibly  as 
you  and  others  do.  I  am  with  Merthyr.  That  is 
what  I  intend  to  tell  him." 

She  smiled  softly  up  to  Georgiana's  cold 
eyes,  to  get  a  look  of  forgiveness  for  her  fiery 
speaking. 


AN  ADVANCE  AND  A  CHECK.         287 

"  So,  then,  you  love  my  brother  ? "  said  Geor- 
giana. 

Emilia  could  have  retorted,  "  Cruel  that  you 
are ! "  The  pain  of  having  an  unripe  feeling 
plucked  at  without  warning,  was  bitter ;  but  she 
repressed  any  exclamation,  in  her  desire  to  main- 
tain simple  and  unsensational  relations  always  with 
those  surrounding  her. 

"  He  is  my  friend,"  she  said.  "  I  think  of  some- 
thing better  than  that  other  word.  Oh,  that  I  were 
a  man,  to  call  him  my  brother-in-arms  !  What's  a 
girl's  love  in  return  for  his  giving  his  money,  his 
heart,  and  offering  his  life  every  day  for  Italy  ?  " 

As  soon  as  Georgiana  could  put  faith  in  her 
intention  to  depart,  she  gave  her  a  friendly  hand 
and  embrace. 

Two  days  later  they  were  at  Eichford,  with  Lady 
Gosstre.  The,  journals  were  full  of  the  Italian 
uprising.  There  had  been  a  collision  between  the 
Imperial  and  patriotic  forces,  near  Brescia,  from 
"which  the  former  had  retired  in  some  confusion. 
Great  things  were  expected  of  Piedmont,  though 
many,  who  had  reason  to  know  him,  distrusted  her 
king.  All  Lombardy  awaited  the  signal  from  Pied- 
mont.    Meanwhile,  blood  was  flowing. 

In  the  excitement  of  her  sudden  rush  from  dead 


288  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

monotony  to  active  life,  Emilia  let  some  time  pass 
before  she  wrote  to  Wilfrid.  Her  letter  was  in  her 
hand,  when  one  was  brought  in  to  her  from  him. 
It  ran  thus : 

*'  I  have  just  returned  home,  and  what  is  this  I 
hear  ?  Are  you  utterly  faithless  ?  Can  I  not  rely 
on  you  to  keep  the  word  you  have  solemnly 
pledged  ?  Meet  me  at  once.  Name  a  place.  I  am 
surrounded  by  misery  and  distraction.  I  will  tell 
you  all  when  we  meet.  I  have  trusted  that  you 
were  firm.  Write  instantly.  I  cannot  ask  you  to 
come  here.  The  house  is  broken  up.  There  is  no 
putting  to  paper  what  has  happened.  My  father 
lies  helpless.  Everything  rests  on  me.  I  thought 
that  I  could  rely  on  you." 

Emilia  tore  up  her  first  letter,  and  replied  : 

"  Come  here  at  once.  Or,  if  you  would  wish  to 
meet  me  elsewhere,  it  shall  be  where  you  please : 
but  immediately.  If  you  have  heard  that  I  am 
going  to  Italy,  it  is  true.  I  break  my  promise.  I 
shall  hope  to  have  j-our  forgiveness.  My  heart 
bleeds  for  my  dear  Cornelia,  and  I  am  eager  to  see 
my  sisters,  and  embrace  them,  and  share  their 
sorrow.  If  I  must  not  come,  tell  them  I  kiss  them. 
Adieu ! " 

Wilfrid  replied : 


AN  ADVANCE  AND  A  CHECK.         289 

"  I  will  be  by  Eichford  Park  gates  to-morrow  at 
a  quarter  to  nine.  You  speak  of  your  heart.  I 
suppose  it  is  a  habit.  Be  careful  to  put  on  a  cloak 
or  thick  shawl ;  we  have  touches  of  frost.  If  I 
cannot  amuse  you,  perhaps  the  nightingales  will. 
Do  you  remember  those  of  last  year?  I  wonder 
whether  we  shall  hear  the  same  ? — we  shall  never 
hear  the  same." 

This  iteration,  whether  cunningly  devised  or 
not,  had  a  charm  for  Emilia's  ear.  She  thought : 
**  I  had  forgotten  all  about  them."  When  she  was 
in  her  bed-room  at  night,  she  threw  up  her  window. 
April  was  leaning  close  upon  May,  and  she  had  not 
to  wait  long  before  a  dusky  flutter  of  low  notes, 
appearing  to  issue  from  the  great  rhododendron 
bank  across  the  lawn,  surprised  her.  She  listened, 
and  another  little  beginning  was  heard,  timorous, 
shy,  and  full  of  mystery  for  her.  The  moon  hung 
over  branches,  some  that  showed  young  buds,  some 
still  bare.  Presently  the  long,  rich,  single  notes  cut 
the  air,  and  melted  to  their  glad  delicious  chuckle. 
The  singer  was  answered  from  a  farther  bough, 
and  again  from  one.  It  grew  to  be  a  circle  of 
melody  round  Emilia  at  the  open  window.  Was 
it  the  same  as  last  year's  ?  The  last  j^ear's  lay 
in   her   memory   faint   and  weU-nigh   unawakened. 

VOL.   Tir.  jj 


290  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

There  was  likewise  a  momentary  sense  of  un- 
reality in  this  still  piping  peacefulness,  while 
Merthyr  stood  in  a  bloody-streaked  field,  fronting 
death.  And  yet  the  song  was  sweet.  Emilia 
clasped  her  arms,  shut  her  eyes,  and  drank  it  in. 
Not  to  think  at  all,  or  even  to  brood  on  her  sen- 
sations, but  to  rest  half  animate  and  let  those 
divine  sounds  find  a  way  through  her  blood,  was 
medicine  to  her. 

Next  day  there  were  numerous  visits  to  the  house. 
Emilia  was  reserved,  and  might  have  been  thought 
sad,  but  she  welcomed  Tracy  Kunningbrook  gladly, 
with  '^  Oh  !  my  old  friend ! "  and  a  tender  squeeze 
of  his  hand. 

"  True,  if  you  like  ;  hot,  if  you  like  ;  but  '  old?'  " 
cried  Tracy. 

"  Yes,  because  I  seem  to  have  got  to  the  other 
side  of  you  ;  I  mean,  I  know  you,  and  am  always 
sure  of  you,"  said  Emilia.  "  You  don^t  care  for 
music ;  I  don't  care  for  -poetry,  but  we're  friends, 
and  I  am  quite  certain  of  you,  and  think  you  '  old 
friend '  always." 

"  And  I,"  said  Tracy,  better  up  to  the  mark  by 
this  time,  "  I  think  of  you,  you  dear  little  woman, 
that  I  ought  to  be  grateful  to  you,  for,  by  Heaven  ! 
you   give  me,  ever}^  time  I  see  j^ou,  the  greatest 


AN  ADVANCE  AND  A  CHECK.         291 

temptation  to  be  a  fool  and  let  me  prove  that  I'm 
not.     Altro  !  altro  !  " 

"  A  fool !  "  said  Emilia  caressingly ;  showing  that 
his  smart  insinuation  had  slipped  by  her. 

The  tale  of  Brookfield  was  told  over  again  by 
Tracy,  and  Emilia  shuddered,  though  Merthyr  and 
her  country  held  her  heart  and  imagination  active 
and  in  suspense,  from  moment  to  moment.  It  helped 
mainly  to  discolour  the  young  world  to  her  eyes. 
She  was  under  the  spell  of  an  excitement  too  keen 
and  quick  to  be  subdued  by  the  sombre  terrors  of  a 
tragedy  enacted  in  a  house  that  she  had  known. 
Brookfield  was  in  the  talk  of  all  who  came  to  Eich- 
ford.  Emilia  got  the  vision  of  the  wretched  family 
seated  in  the  library  as  usual,  when  upon  midnight 
they  were  about  to  part,  and  a  knock  came  at  the 
outer  door,  and  two  men  entered  the  hall,  bearing  a 
lifeless  body  with  a  red  spot  above  the  heart.  She 
saw  Cornelia  fall  to  it.  She  saw  the  pale-faced 
family  that  had  given  her  shelter,  and  moaned  for 
lack  of  a  w^ay  of  helping  them  and  comforting  them. 
She  reproached  herself  for  feeling  her  ovm  full  phy- 
sical life  so  warmly,  while  others  whom  she  had 
loved  were  weeping.  It  was  useless  to  resist  the 
tide  of  fresh  vitality  in  her  veins,  and  when  her 
thoughts  turned  to  their  main  attraction,  she  was 

u  2 


292  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

rejoicing  at  the  great  strength  she  felt  coming  to  her 
gradually.  Her  face  was  smooth  and  impassive : 
this  new  joy  of  strength  came  on  her  like  the  flowing 
of  a  sea  to  a  land-locked  water.  "  Poor  souls  !  "  she 
sighed  for  her  friends,  wliile  irrepressible  exultation 
filled  her  si^irit. 

That  afternoon,  in  the  midst  of  packing  and  pre- 
parations for  the  journey,  at  all  of  which  Lady 
Gosstre  smiled  with  a  complacent  bewilderment,  a 
card,  bearing  the  name  of  Miss  Laura  Tinley,  was 
sent  up  to  Emilia.  She  had  forgotten  this  person, 
and  asked  Lady  Gosstre  who  it  was.  Arabella's 
rival  presented  herself  most  winningly.  For  some 
time,  Emilia  listened  to  her  with  w^onder  that  a 
tongue  should  be  so  glib  on  matters  of  no  earthly 
interest.  At  last,  Laura  said  in  an  undertone  :  "  I 
am  the  bearer  of  a  message  from  Mr.  Pericles ;  do 
you  walk  at  all  in  the  garden  ?  " 

Emilia  read  her  look,  and  rose.  Her  thoughts 
struck  back  on  the  creature  that  she  was  when  she 
had  last  seen  Mr.  Pericles,  and  again,  by  contrast,  on 
what  she  was  now.  Eager  to  hear  of  him,  or  rather 
to  divine  the  mystery  in  her  bosom  aroused  by  the 
unexpected  mention  of  his  name,  she  was  soon  alone 
mth  Laura  in  the  garden. 

"  Oil,  those  poor  Poles  !"  Laura  began. 


AN   ADVA^X'E    AND    A   CHECK.  293 

"  You  were  going  to  say  somethiug  of  Mr.  Peri- 
cles," said  Emilia. 

*•'  Yes,  indeed,  my  dear  ;  but,  of  course,  you  have 
heard  all  the  details  of  that  dreadful  night  ?  It 
cannot  be  called  a  comfort  to  us  that  it  enables  my 
brother  Albert  to  come  forward  in  the  most  disinter- 
ested— I  might  venture  to  say,  generous — manner, 
and  prove  the  chivalry  of  his  soul ;  still,  as  things 
are,  we  are  glad,  after  such  misunderstandings,  to 
prove  to  that  sorely- tried  family  who  are  their 
friends.  I — you  would  little  think  so  from  their 
treatment  of  me — I  was  at  school  with  them.  I 
knew  them  before  they  became  unintelligible,  though 
they  always  had  a  turn  for  it.  To  dress  well,  to  be 
refined,  to  mari^  well — I  understand  all  that  per- 
fectly ;  but  who  could  understand  them  ?  Not  they 
themselves,  I  am  certain !  And  now  penniless  !  and 
not  only  that,  but  lawyers  !  You  know  that  Mrs. 
Chump  has  commenced  an  action  ? — no  ?  Oh,  yes  ! 
but  I  shall  have  to  tell  you  the  whole  story." 

"What  is  it  ? — they  want  money  ?"  said  Emilia. 

"  I  will  tell  you.  Our  poor  gentlemanly  organist, 
whom  you  knew,  was  really  a  baronet's  son,  and 
inherited  the  title." 

Emiha  interrupted  her :  "  Oh,  do  let  me  hear 
about  them  !" 


294  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

"  "Well,  my  clear,  this  unfortunate — I  may  call 
him  '  lover,'  for  if  a  man  does  not  stamp  the  truth 
of  his  affection  with  a  pistol,  what  other  means  has 
he  ?  And  just  a  word  as  to  romance.  I  have  been 
sighing  for  it — no  one  would  think  so— all  my  life. 
And  who  would  have  thought  that  these  poor  Poles 
should  have  lived  to  convince  me  of  the  folly ! 
Oh,  delicious  humdrum  ! — there  is  nothing  like  it. 
But  you  are  anxious,  naturally.  Poor  Sir  Purcell 
Barrett — he  may  or  may  not  have  been  mad,  but 
when  he  was  brought  to  the  house  at  Brookfield — 
quite  by  chance — I  mean,  his  body — two  labouring 
men  found  him  by  a  tree — I  don't  know  whether 
you  remember  a  pollard-willow  that  stood  all  white 
and  rotten  by  the  water  in  the  fir-wood  : — well,  as  I 
said,  mad  or  not,  no  sooner  did  poor  Corneha  see 
him  than  she  shrieked  that  she  was  the  cause  of  his 
death.  He  was  laid  in  the  hall — which  I  have  so 
often  trod  !  and  there  Cornelia  sat  by  his  poor  dead 
body,  and  accused  Wilfrid  and  her  father  of  every 
unkindness.     They  say  that  the  scene  was  terrible. 

9 

"Wilfrid — but  I  need  not  tell  jou  his  character.  He 
flutters  from  flower  to  flower,  but  he  has  feeling. 
Now  comes  the  worst  of  all — in  one  sense  ;  that  is, 
looking  on  it  as  people  of  the  world ;  and  being  in 
the  world,  we  must  take  a  worldly  view  occasionally. 


AX   ADVANCE   ANT)   A   CHECK.  295 

Mr.  Pole — you  remember  how  he  behaved  once  at 
Besworth :  or,  no  ;  you  were  not  there,  but  he  used 
your  name.  His  mania  was,  as  everybody  could 
see,  to  maiTy  his  children  grandly.  I  don't  blame* 
him  in  any  way.  Still,  he  was  not  justified  in  living 
beyond  his  means  to  that  end,  speculating  rashly, 
and  concealing  his  actual  circumstances.  Well, 
Mr.  Pericles  and  he  were  involved  together ;  that  is, 
Mr.  Pericles " 

*'Is  Mr.  Pericles  near  us  now?"  said  Emilia 
quickly. 

"We  will  come  to  him,"  Laui'a  resumed,  with  the 
complacency  of  one  who  saw  a  goodly  portion  of 
the  festival  she  was  enjoying  still  before  her.  "  I 
was  going  to  say,  Mr.  Pericles  had  poor  !Mr.  Pole  in 
his  power ;  has  him,  would  be  the  correcter  tense. 
And  Wilfrid,  as  you  may  have  heard,  had  really 
grossly  insulted  him,  even  to  the  extent  of  mal- 
treating him — a  poor  foreigner — rich  foreigner,  if 
you  like  !  but  not  capable  of  standing  against  a 
strong  young  man  in  wrath.  However,  now  there 
can  be  little  doubt  that  Wilfrid  repents.  He  had 
been  trying  ever  since  to  see  Mr.  Pericles ;  and  the 
very  morning  of  that  day,  I  believe,  he  saw  him  and 
humbled  himself  to  make  an  apology.  This  had 
put  Mr.  Pole  in  good   spii'its,  and  in  the  evening — 


296  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

lie  and  Mrs.  Chump  were  very  fond  of  tlieir  wine 
after  dinner — he  was  heard  that  very  evening  to 
name  a  day  for  his  union  with  her ;  for  that  had 
been  quite  understood,  and  he  had  asked  his 
daughters  and  got  their  consent.  The  sight  of  Sir 
Purcell's  corpse,  and  the  cries  of  Cornelia,  must 
have  turned  him  childish.  I  cannot  conceive  a 
situation  so  harrowing  as  that  of  those  poor  children 
hearing  their  father  declare  himself  an  impostor ! 
a  beggar  !  a  peculator !  He  cried,  poor  unhappy 
man  !  real  tears  !  The  truth  was  that  his  nerves  sud- 
denly gave  way.  For,  just  before — only  just  before, 
he  was  smiling  and  talking  largely.  He  wished  to 
go  on  his  knees  to  every  one  of  them,  and  kept 
telling  them  of  his  love — the  servants  all  awake  and 
listening  !  and  more  gossiping  servants  than  the 
Poles  always,  by  the  most  extraordinary  inadvertence, 
managed  to  get,  you  never  heard  of!  Nothing 
would  stop  him  from  humiliating  himself !  No  one 
paid  any  attention  to  Mrs.  Chump  until  she  started 
from  her  chair.  The}^  say  that  some  of  the  servants 
who  were  crying  outside,  positively  were  compelled 
to  laugh  when  they  heard  her  first  outbursts.  And 
poor  Mr.  Pole  confessed  that  he  had  touched  her 
money.  He  could  not  tell  her  how  much.  Fancy 
such  a  scene,  with  a  dead  man  in  the  house !    Imacji- 


AN  ADVANCE  AND  A  CHECK.         297 

nation  almost  refuses  to  conjure  it  up  !  Not  to 
dwell  on  it  too  long — for,  /  have  never  eudured 
such  a  shock  as  it  has  given  me  —  ^Nlrs.  Chump 
left  the  house,  and  the  next  thing  received  from 
her  was  a  lawyer's  letter.  Business  men  say  she 
is  not  to  blame :  women  may  cherish  their  own 
opinion.  But,  oh,  Miss  Belloni !  is  it  not  tenible  ? 
You  are  pale." 

Emilia,  behind  what  she  felt  for  her  friends,  had 
a  dim  comprehension  of  the  meaning  of  their  old 
disgust  at  Laura,  during  this  narration.  But, 
healing  the  word  of  pity,  she  did  not  stop  to  be 
critical.  "Can  vou  do  nothinGf  for  them?"  she 
said,  abruptly. 

The  thought  in  Laura's  shocked  gi'ey  eyes  was, 
"  They  have  done  little  enough  for  you,"  i.e.  towards 
making  you  a  lady.  "Oh!"  she  cried,  "can  you 
teach  me  what  to  do  ?  I  must  be  extremely  deli- 
cate, and  calculate  upon  what  they  would  accept 
from  me.  For — so  I  hear — they  used  to — and  may 
still — nourish  a — what  I  called — silly — though  not 
in  unkindness — hostility  to  our  famil}- — me.  And 
perhaps  now  natural  delicacy  may  render  it  difficult 
for  them  to  .  .  .  ." 

In  short,  to  accept  an  alms  from  Laura  Tinley ; 
so  said  her  pleading  look  for  an  interpretation. 


298  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

"  You  know  Mr.  Pericles,"  said  Emilia,  "  he  can 
do  the  mischief — can  he  not  ?     Stop  him." 

Lam-a  laughed.  "  One  might  almost  say  that 
you  do  not  know  him,  Miss  Belloni.  What  is  my 
influence  ?  I  have  neither  a  voice,  nor  can  I  play 
on  any  instrument.  I  would — indeed  I  will — do 
my  best — my  utmost ;  only,  how  even  to  introduce 
the  subject  to  him  ?  Are  not  you  the  person  ? 
He  speaks  of  you  constantly.  He  has  consulted 
doctors  with  regard  to  your  voice,  and  the  only  ex- 
cuse, dear  Miss  Belloni,  for  my  visit  to  you  to-day, 
is  my  desire  that  any  misunderstanding  between 
you  may  be  cleared.  Because,  I  have  jast  heard 
— Miss  Belloni  will  forgive  me  ! — the  origin  of  it; 
and  tidings  coming  that  you  w^ere  in  the  neighbour- 
hood, I  thought — hoped  that  I  might  be  the  means 
of  re -uniting  two  evidently  destined  to  be  of  essen- 
tial service  to  one  another.  And  really,  life  means 
that,  does  it  not  ?" 

Emilia  was  becoming  more  critical  of  this  tone 
the  more  she  listened.  She  declared  her  imme- 
diate willingness  to  meet  Mr.  Pericles.  With 
which,  and  Emiha's  assurance  that  she  would 
write,  and  herself  make  the  appointment,  Laura 
retired,  in  high  glee  at  the  prospect  of  winning  the 
gratitude  of  the    inscrutable    millionaire.      It  was 


AX   ADYAXT'E   A2yD   A   CHECK.  299 

true  that  the  absence  of  any  livalry  for  the  posses- 
sion of  the  man  took  much  of  his  sweetness  from 
him.  She  seemed  to  be  plucking  him  from  the 
hands  of  the  dead,  and  half  recognised  that  victory 
over  uncontesting  rivals  claps  the  laurel- wreath 
rather  rudely  upon  our  heads. 

Emilia  lost  no  time  in  running  straight  to 
Georgiana,  who  was  busy  at  her  writing-desk.  She 
related  what  she  had  just  heard,  ending  breath- 
lessly :  "  Georgey !  my  dear !  will  you  help 
them?" 

*' In  what  possible  way  can  I  do  so?"  said 
Georgiana.  "  To-morrow  night  we  shall  have  left 
England." 

"  But  to-day  we  are  here."  Emilia  pressed  a 
hand  to  her  bosom  :  "  my  heart  feels  hollow,  and 
my  friends  cry  out  in  it.  I  cannot  let  him  suffer." 
She  looked  into  Georgiana's  eyes.  "  Will  you  not 
help  them  ? — they  want  money." 

The  lady  reddened.  "  Is  it  not  preposterous  to 
suppose  that  I  can  ofier  them  assistance  of  such  a 
kind?" 

"  Not  you,"  returned  Emilia,  sighing ;  and  in  an 
underbreath,  "  me — wiU  you  lend  it  to  me  ?  ]\Ierthyr 
would.  I  shall  repay  it.  I  cannot  tell  what  fills 
me  with  this  delight,  but  I  know  I  am  able  to  repay 


300  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

any  sum.  Two  thousand  pounds  would  help  them. 
I  think — I  think  my  voice  has  come  hack." 

"  Have  you  tried  it  ?  "  said  Georgiana,  to  pro- 
duce a  diversion  from  the  other  topic. 

"  No  ;  but  believe  me,  when  I  tell  you,  it  must  be. 
I  scarcely  feel  the  floor ;  no  misery  touches  me.  I 
am  onl}'  sorry  for  my  friends,  not  down  on  the 
ground  with  them.  Believe  me  !  And  I  have  been 
studying  all  this  while.  I  have  not  lost  an  hour. 
I  would  accept  a  -psivt,  and  step  on  the  boards 
within  a  week,  and  be  certain  to  succeed.  I  am 
just  as  willing  to  go  to  the  Conservatorio  and  submit 
to  discipline.  Only,  dear  friend,  believe  me,  that 
I  ask  for  money  now,  because  I  am  sure  I  can 
repay  it.  I  want  to  send  it  immediately,  and  then, 
good-bye  to  England." 

Georgiana  closed  her  desk.  She  had  been  sus- 
picious at  first  of  another  sentiment  in  the  back- 
ground, but  was  now  quite  convinced  of  the  sim- 
plicitj^  of  Emilia's  design.  She  said:  "  I  will  tell 
you  exactly  how  I  am  placed.  I  do  not  know  that, 
under  any  circumstances,  I  could  have  given  into 
your  hands  so  large  a  sum  as  this  that  you  ask  for. 
My  brother  has  a  fortune ;  and  I  have  also  a  little 
property.  When  I  say  my  brother  has  a  fortune, 
he  has   the   remains  of  one.      All   that   has    gone 


AN  ADVANCE  AND  A  CHECK.         301 

has  been  devoted  to  relieve  j^our  countrymen,  and 
further  the  interests  he  has  nearest  at  heart.  What 
is  left  to  him,  I  believe,  he  has  now  thrown  into  the 
gulf.  You  have  heard  Lad}^  Charlotte  call  him  a 
fanatic." 

Emilia's  lip  quivered. 

*'  You  must  not  blame  her  for  that,"  Georgiana 
continued.  "  Lady  Gosstre  thinks  much  the  same. 
The  world  thinks  with  them.  I  love  him,  and 
prove  my  love  by  trusting  him,  and  wish  to  prove 
my  love  by  aiding  him,  and  being  always  at  hand 
to  succour,  as  I  should  be  now,  but  that  I  obeyed 
his  dearest  wish  in  resting  here  to  watch  over  you. 
I  am  his  other  self.  I  have  taught  him  to  feel 
that,  so  that  in  his  devotion  to  this  cause  he  may 
follow  every  impulse  that  he  has  ;  and  still  there  is 
his  sister  to  fall  back  on.  My  child !  see  what  I 
have  been  doing.  I  have  been  calculating  here." 
Georgiana  took  a  scroll  from  her  desk,  and  laid  it 
under  Emilia's  eyes.  "  I  have  reckoned  our  ex- 
penses as  far  as  Turin,  and  have  only  consented 
to  take  Lad}"  Gosstre's  valet  for  courier,  just  to 
please  her.  I  know  that  he  will  make  the  cost 
double,  and  I  feel  like  a  miser  about  money.  If 
Merthyr  is  ruined,  he  will  require  ever}"  farthing 
that  I  have  for  our  common  subsistence.     Now  do 


302  EMLIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

you  understand  ?  I  can  hardly  put  the  case  more 
plainly.  It  is  out  of  my  power  to  do  what  jovl  ask 
me  to  do." 

Eihilia  sighed  lightly,  and  seemed  not':  much  cast 
down  hy  the  refusal.  She  perceived  that  it  was 
necessarily  positive,  and  like  all  minds  framed  to 
resolve  to  action,  there  was  an  instantaneous 
change  of  the  current  of  her  thoughts  to  another 
direction. 

"  Then,  my  darling,  my  one  prayer !  "  she  said. 
"  Postpone  our  going  for  a  week.  I  will  try  to  get 
help  for  them  elsewhere." 

Georgiana  was  pleased  by  Emilia's  manner  of 
taking  the  rebuff ;  but  it  required  an  altercation 
before  she  consented  to  this  postponement;  she 
nodded  her  head  finally  in  anger. 


CHAPTEE    XXI. 

CONTAINS    A    FURTHER   ANATOMY    OF    WILFRID. 

By  the  park-gates  that  evening,  Wilfrid  received 
a  letter  from  the  hands  of  Tracy  Eunningbrook.  It 
said:  "I  am  not  able  to  see  you,  now.  When  I 
tell  you  I  will  see  you  before  I  leave  England,  I 
insist  upon  your  believing  me.  I  have  no  head  for 
seeing  anybody  now.  Emiuli" — was  the  simple  sig- 
nature, perused  over  and  over  again  by  this  maddened 
lover,  under  the  flitting  gate-lamp,  after  Tracy  had 
left  him.  The  coldness  of  Emilia's  name  so  biiefly 
given,  concentrated  every  fire  in  his  heart.  What 
was  it  but  miserable  cowardice,  he  thought,  that 
prevented  him  from  gettiug  the  peace  poor  Barrett 
had  found  ?  Intolerable  anguish  weakened  his 
limbs.  He  flung  himself  on  a  wayside  bank,  gi'o- 
velling,  to  rise  again  calm  and  quite  ready  for 
society,  upon  the  proper  application  of  the  clothes- 
brush.  Indeed,  he  patted  his  shoulder  and  elbow 
to  remove  the  soil  of  his  short  contact  with  earth, 
and  tried  a  cigar :  but  the  first  taste  of  the  smoke 


304  EMILLV    IX    ENGLAND. 

sickened  his  lips.  Then  he  stood  for  a  moment  as 
a  man  in  a  new  world.  This  strange  sensation  of 
disgust  with  familiar,  comforting,  habits,  fixed  him 
in  perplexity,  till  a  rushing  of  wild  thoughts  and 
hopes  from  brain  to  heart,  heart  to  brain,  gave  him 
insight,  and  he  perceived  his  state,  and  that  for  all 
he  held  to  in  our  life  he  was  dependent  upon 
another  :  which  is  virtually  the  curse  of  love. 

"  And  he  passed  along  the  road,"  adds  the  philo- 
sopher, "  a  weaker  man,  a  stronger  lover.  Not  that 
love  should  diminish  manliness,  or  gains  by  so 
doing ;  but  travelling  to  love  by  the  ways  of  Senti- 
ment, attaining  to  the  passion  bit  by  bit,  does  full 
surely  take  from  us  the  strength  of  our  nature,  as  if 
(which  is  probable)  at  every  step  we  paid  fee  to  move 
forward.  Wilfrid  had  just  enough  of  the  coin  to  pay 
his  footing.  He  was  verily  fining  himself  doiun.  You 
are  tempted  to  ask  what  the  value  of  him  will  be 
by  the  time  that  he  turns  out  pure  metal  ?  I  reply, 
something  considerable,  if  by  great  sacrifice  he  gets 
to  truth — gets  to  that  oneness  of  feeling  which  is 
the  truthful  impulse.  At  least,  he  will  stand  high 
above  them  that  have  not  suffered.  The  rejection 
of  his  cigar " 


This  waxes  too  absurd.      At  the  risk  of  breaking 
our  partnership  for   ever,  I  intervene.     My  philo- 


A   FURTHER   ANATOMY   OF   WILFRID.  305 

sopher's  meaning  is  plain,  and,  as  usual,  good ;  but 
not  even  I,  who  have  less  reason  to  laugh  at 
him  than  anybodj',  can  gravely  ace ej^t  the  juxtaposi- 
tion of  suffering  and  cigars.  And,  moreover,  there 
is  a  little  piece  of  action  in  store. 

"Wilfrid  had  walked  half  way  to  Brookfield,  when 
the  longing  to  look  upon  the  Richford  chamber- 
windows  stirred  so  hotly  within  him  that  he  returned 
to  the  gates.  He  saw  Captain  Gambler  issuing  on 
horseback  from  under  the  lamp.  The  captain  re- 
marked that  it  was  a  fine  night,  and  prepared  to  ride 
off,  but  Wilfrid  requested  him  to  dismount,  and  his 
voice  had  the  unmistakeable  ring  in  it  by  which  a 
man  knows  that  there  must  be  no  trifling.  The 
captain  leaned  forward  to  look  at  him  before  he 
obeyed  the  summons.  All  self-control  had  aban- 
doned Wilfrid  in  the  rage  he  felt  at  Gambler's 
having  seen  Emilia,  and  the  jealous  suspicion  that 
she  had  failed  to  keep  her  appointment  for  the  like 
reason. 

"  Why  do  3'ou  come  here  ?  "  he  said,  hoarsely. 

*'  By  Jove  !  that's  an  odd  question,"  said  the  cap- 
tain, at  once  taking  his  ground. 

"  Am  I  to  understand  that  you've  been  playing 
with  my  sister,  as  you  do  with  every  other  woman  ?  " 

Captain   Gambler    murmured    quietly,    "  Every 

VOL.    III.  X 


EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

other  woman  ?  "  and  smootlied  his  horse's  neck. 
"  They're  not  so  easil}-  pla3'ed  with,  my  dear  fellow. 
You  speak  like  a  youngster." 

"  I  am  the  onl}^  protector  of  my  sister's  repu- 
tation," said  Wilfrid,  "  and,  by  Heaven  !  if  you 
have  cast  her  over  to  be  the  common  talk,  you  shall 
meet  me." 

The  Captain  tiu'ned  to  his  horse,  saying,  "  Oh  ! 
"Well !  "  Being  mounted,  he  observed  :  "  My  dear 
Pole,  yon  might  have  sung  out  all  you  had  to  say. 
Go  to  your  sister,  and  if  she  complains  of  my 
behaviour,  I'll  meet  you.  Oh,  yes  !  I'll  meet  you; 
I  have  no  objection  to  excitement.  You're  in  the 
hands  of  an  infernally  clever  woman,  who  does  me 
tlie  honour  to  wish  to  see  my  blood  on  the  carpet, 
I  believe  :  but  if  tliis  is  her  scheme,  it's  not  worthy 
of  her  ability.  She  began  pretty  well.  She  ar- 
ranged the  preliminaries  capitally.  Why,  look 
here,"  he  relinquished  his  ordinary  drawl;  '*  I'll 
tell  you  something,  which  you  may  put  down  in  my 
favour  or  not — just  as  you  like.  That  woman  did 
her  best  to  compromise  your  sister  with  me  on 
board  the  yacht.  I  can't  tell  you  how,  and  won't. 
Of  course,  I  wouldn't  if  I  could ;  but  I  have  sense 
enough  to  admire  a  very  charming  j)erson,  and  I  did 
the  only  honourable  thing  in  my  power.     It's  your 


A  FURTHER  ANATOMY   OF   WILFRID.  307 

sister,  my  good  fellow,  who  gave  me  my  dismissal. 
We  had  a  little  common  sense  conversation — in 
which  she  shines.  I  envy  the  man  that  mai-ries 
her,  hut  she  denies  me  such  luck.  There !  if  you 
want  to  shoot  me  for  my  share  in  that  trans- 
action, I'll  give  you  your  chance :  and  if  you  do, 
my  dear  Pole,  either  you  must  he  a  tremendous 
fool,  or  that  woman's  ten  times  cleverer  than  I 
thought.  You  know  where  to  find  me.  Good 
night." 

The  Captain  put  spui's  to  his  horse,  hearing  no 
more. 

Adela  confirmed  to  Wilfrid  what  Gamhier  had 
spoken ;  and  that  it  was  she  who  had  given  him  his 
dismissal.  She  called  him  hyhis  name,  '  Augustus,' 
in  a  kindly  tone,  remarking,  that  Lady  Charlotte 
had  persecuted  him  dreadfully.  "  Poor  Augustus  ! 
his  entire  reputation  for  evil  is  o^dng  to  her  black 
paint-brush.  There  is  no  man  so  easily  '  hooked,' 
as  Mrs.  Bayruffle  would  say,  as  he,  though  he  has  but 
eight  hundred  a-year :  barely  enough  to  live  on.  It 
would  have  been  cruel  of  me  to  keep  him,  for  if  he 
is  in  love,  it's  with  Emilia." 

Wilfrid  here  took  upon  himself  to  reproach  her  for 
a  certain  negligence  of  worldly  interests.  She  laughed 
and  blushed  with  humorous  satisfaction  ;  and,   on 

X  2 


308  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

second  thoughts,  he  changed  his  opinion,  telling 
her  that  he  wished  he  could  win  his  freedom  as  she 
had  done. 

"  Wilfrid,"  she  said  suddenly,  "  will  you  persuade 
Cornelia  not  to  wear  black  P  " 

"  Yes,  if  3'ou  wish  it,"  he  replied. 

"  You  will,  positively  ?  Then  listen,  dear.  I 
don't  like  the  prospect  of  your  alliance  with  Lady 
Charlotte." 

Wilfrid  could  not  repress  a  despondent  shrug. 

"  But  you  can  get  released,"  she  cried  ;  and 
ultimately  counselled  him :  "  Mention  the  name  of 
Lord  Eltham  before  her  once,  when  you  are  alone. 
Watch  the  result.  Only,  don't  be  clumsy.  But  I 
need  not  tell  you  that." 

For  hours  he  cudgelled  his  brains  to  know  why 
she  desired  Cornelia  not  to  wear  black,  and  when 
the  light  broke  in  on  him  he  laughed  like  a  jolly 
youth  for  an  instant.  The  reason  why,  was  in  a 
web  so  complicated,  that,  to  have  divined  what  hung 
on  Cornelia's  wearing  of  black,  showed  a  rare 
sagacity  and  perception  of  character  on  the  little 
lady's  part.  As  thus  : — Sir  Twickenham  Pr3^me  is 
the  most  sensitive  of  men  to  ridicule  and  vulgar 
tattle :  he  has  continued  to  ^dsit  the  house,  learning 
by  degrees  to  prefer  me^  but  still  too  chivah'ous  to 


A    FURTHER   ANATOMY    OF    WILFRID.  309 

■withdraw  his  claim  to  Cornelia,  notwithstanding 
that  he  has  seen  indications  of  her  not  too  absolute 
devotion  towards  him  : — I  have  let  him  become  aware 
that  I  have  broken  with  Captain  Gambler  (whose 
income  is  eight  hundred  a  year  merely),  for  the 
sake  of  a  higher  attachment : — now,  since  the  catas- 
trophe, he  can  with  ease  make  it  appear  to  the  world 
that  I  was  his  choice  from  the  first,  seeing  that 
Cornelia  will  assuredly  make  no  manner  of  objec- 
tion : — but,  if  she,  with  foolish  sentimental  per- 
sistence, assumes  the  garb  of  sorrow,  then  Sir 
Twickenham's  ears  will  tingle  ;  he  will  retire  alto- 
gether ;  he  will  not  dare  to  place  himself  in  a 
position  which  will  lend  a  colour  to  the  gossip  that, 
jilted  by  one  sister,  he  flew  for  consolation  to  the 
other ;  jilted,  too,  for  the  mere  memory  of  a  dead 
man  !  an  additional  insult ! 

Exquisite  intricacy !  Wilfrid  w^orked  through 
all  the  intervolutions,  and  nearly  forgot  his  wretched- 
ness in  admiration  of  his  sister's  mental  endow- 
ments. He  was  the  more  willing  to  magnify  them, 
inasmuch  as  he  thereby  strengthened  his  hope  that 
liberty  would  follow  the  speaking  of  the  talismanic 
name  of  Eltham  to  Lady  Charlotte,  alone.  He 
had  come  to  look  upon  her  as  the  real  handier 
between  himself  and  Emilia. 


310  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

"  I  think  we  have  brains,"  he  said  softly,  on  his 
pillow,  upon  a  review  of  the  beggared  aspect  of  his 
family;  and  he  went  to  sleep  with  a  smile  on  his 
face. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

FEOST  ON  THE  MAY  NIGHT. 

A  SHARP  breath  of  air  had  i^assed  along  the  dews, 
and  all  the  young  green  of  the  fresh  season  shone 
in  white  jewels.  The  sky,  set  with  very  dim,  dis- 
tant stars,  was  in  grey  light  round  a  small  brilliant 
moon.  Every  space  of  earth  lifted  clear  to  her ; 
the  woodland  listened ;  and  in  the  bright  silence 
the  nightingales  sang  loud. 

Emilia  and  Tracy  Eunningbrook  were  threading 
their  way  towards  a  lane  over  which  great  oak 
branches  intervolved ;  thence  under  larches  all  with 
glittering  sleeves,  and  among  spiky  brambles,  with 
the  purple  leaf  and  the  crimson  frosted.  The  frost 
on  the  edges  of  the  brown-leaved  bracken  gave  a 
faint  colour.  Here  and  there,  intense  silver  dazzled 
their  eyes.  As  they  advanced  amid  the  icy  hush, 
so  hard  and  instant  was  the  ring  of  the  earth  under 
them,  their  steps  sounded  as  if  expected. 

"  This  night  seems  made  for  me  !  "  said  Emilia. 

Tracy  had    no   knowledge  of   the  object  of   the 


312  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

expedition.  He  was  her  squire  simply;  had 
pitched  on  a  sudden  into  an  enamoured  condi- 
tion, and  walked  beside  her,  caring  little  whither 
he  was  led,  so  that  she  left  him  not. 

They  came  upon  a  clearing  in  the  Avood  where 
a  tournament  of  knights  might  have  been  held. 
Banged  on  two  sides  were  rows  of  larches,  and  for- 
ward, fit  to  plume  a  dais,  a  clump  of  tall  firs  stood 
with  a  flowing  silver  fir  to  right  and  left,  and  the 
white  stems  of  the  birch  tree  shining  from  among 
them.  This  fair  woodland  court  had  three  broad 
oaks,  as  for  gateways ;  and  the  moon  was  above 
it.  Moss  and  the  frosted  brown  fern  were  its 
flooring. 

Emilia  said  eagerlj^  "  This  way,"  and  ran  under 
one  of  the  oaks.  She  turned  to  Tracy  following : 
*'  There  is  no  doubt  of  it."  Her  hand  was  lying 
softly  on  her  thi'oat. 

"Your  voice  ?"  Tracy  divined  her. 

She  nodded,  but  frowned  lovingly  at  the  shout  he 
raised,  and  he  understood  that  there  was  haply  some 
plot  to  be  worked  out.  The  open  space  was  quite 
luminous  in  the  middle  of  those  three  deep  walls  of 
shadow.  Emilia  enjoined  him  to  rest  where  he  was, 
and  wait  for  her  on  that  spot  like  a  faithful  sentinel, 
whatsoever  ensued.     Coaxing  his  promise,  she  en- 


FROST  ON  THE  MAY  NIGHT.         313 

tered  the  square  of  white  light  alone.  Presently 
she  stood  upon  a  low  mound,  so  that  her  whole 
figure  was  distinct,  while  the  moon  made  her  features 
visible. 

Expectancy  sharpened  the  stillness  to  Tracy's 
ears.  A  nightingale  began  the  charm.  He  was 
answered  by  another.  Many  were  soon  in  song, 
till  even  the  pauses  were  sweet  with  them.  Tracy 
had  the  thought  that  they  were  calling  for  Emilia 
to  commence;  that  it  was  nature  preluding  the 
divine  human  voice,  weaving  her  spell  for  it.  He 
was  seized  by  a  thirst  to  hear  the  adorable  girl, 
who  stood  there  patiently,  'uith  her  face  lifted  soft  in 
moonlight.  And  then  the  blood  thrilled  along  his 
veins,  as  if  one  more  than  mortal  had  touched  him. 
It  seemed  to  him  long,  before  he  knew  that  Emilia's 
voice  was  in  the  air. 

In  such  a  place,  at  such  a  time,  there  is  no 
wizardry  like  a  woman's  voice.  Emilia  had  gained 
in  force  and  fullness.  She  sang  with  a  stately 
fervour,  letting  the  notes  flow  from  her  breast,  while 
both  her  arms  hung  loose,  and  not  a  gesture  escaped 
her.  Tracy's  fiery  imagination  set  him  throbbing, 
as  to  the  voice  of  the  verified  spirit  of  the  place. 
He  heard  nothing  but  Emilia,  and  scarce  felt  that 
it  was  she,  or  that  tears  were  on  his  eyelids,  till  her 


314  EMILIA    IN   EXGLAXD. 

voice  sank  richly,  deep  into  the  bosom  of  the  woods. 
Then  the  stilhiess,  like  one  folding  up  a  precious 
jewel,  seemed  to  pant  audibly. 

*'  She's  not  alone  ! "  This  was  human  speech  at 
his  elbow,  uttered  in  some  stupefied  amazement. 
In  an  extremity  of  wratli,  Tracy  turned  about  to 
curse  the  intruder,  and  discerned  Wilfrid,  eagerly 
bent  forward  on  the  other  side  of  the  oak  by  which 
he  leaned.  Advancing  towards  Emilia,  two  figures 
were  seen.  Mr.  Pericles  in  his  bearskin  was 
easily  to  be  distinguished.  His  companion  was 
Laura  Tinley.  The  Greek  moved  at  rapid  strides, 
and  coming  near  upon  Emilia,  raised  his  hands  as 
in  exclamation.  At  once  he  disencumbered  his 
shoulders  of  the  enormous  wrapper,  held  it  aloft 
imperiousl}",  and  by  main  force  extinguished  Emilia. 
Laura's  shrill  laugh  resounded. 

"Oh!  beastly  bathos!^'  Tracy  groaned  in  his 
heart.  "  Plere  we  are  down  in  Avernus  in  a  twink- 
ling!" 

There  was  evidently  quick  talk  going  on  among 
the  three,  after  which  Emilia,  heavily  weighted, 
walked  a  little  apart  with  Mr.  Pericles,  who  looked 
lean  and  lank  beside  her,  and  gesticulated  in  his 
wildest  manner.  Tracy  glanced  about  for  Wilfrid. 
The  latter  was   not  visible,  but,  stepping  up   the 


FROST    ON   THE   :\L\Y   NIGHT.  olo 

bank  of  sand  and  moss,  appeared  a  lady  in  shawl 
and  hat,  in  whom  he  recognised  Lady  Charlotte. 
He  went  u])  to  her  and  saluted. 

"  Ah  !  Tracy,"  she  said.  "  I  saw  you  leave  the 
drawling-room,  and  expected  to  find  you  here.  So, 
the  little  woman  has  got  her  voice  again  ;  but  why 
on  earth  couldn't  she  make  the  display  at  Richford? 
It's  very  pretty,  and  I  dare  say  you  highly  approve 
of  this  land  of  romantic  interlude,  Signor  Poet,  but 
it  strikes  me  as  being  rather  senseless." 

'*  But,  are  you  alone  '?  What  on  earth  brings  you 
here  ?"  asked  Tracy. 

"  Oh  !"  the  lady  shi'ugged.  "  I  told  her  I  would 
come.  She  said  I  should  hear  something  to-night, 
if  I  did.  I  fancied  naturally  the  appointment  had 
to  do  with  her  voice,  and  wished  to  please  her.  It's 
only  five  minutes  from  the  west-postern  of  the  park. 
Is  she  going  to  sing  any  more  ?  There's  company 
apparently.     Shall  we  go  and  declare  ourselves  ?" 

"  I'm  on  duty,  and  can  t,"  replied  Tracy,  and 
twisting  his  body  in  an  ecstasy  added  :  "  Did  you 
hear  her  ?" 

Lady  Charlotte  laughed  softly.  ''  You  speak  as  if 
you  had  taken  a  hurt,  my  dear  boy.  This  sort  of 
scene  is  dangerous  to  poets.  But,  I  thought  you 
slighted  music." 


316  EMILIA    IN    ENGLAND. 

"  I  don't  know  whether  I'm  breathing  yet,"  Tracy- 
rejoined.  "  She's  a  goddess  to  me  from  this  mo- 
ment. Not  like  music  ?  Am  I  a  dolt  ?  She  would 
raise  me  from  the  dead,  if  she  sang  over  me.  Put 
me  in  a  boat,  and  let  her  sing  on,  and  all  miiy  end ! 
I  could  die  into  colour,  hearing  her  !  That's  the 
voice  they  hear  in  Heaven." 

"  When  they  are  good,  I  suppose,"  the  irreverent 
lady  appended.  "  What's  that?  "  And  she  held  her 
head  to  listen. 

Emilia's  mortal  tones  were  calling  Wilfrid's  name. 
The  lady  became  grave,  as  with  keen  eyes  she 
watched  the  open  space,  and,  to  a  second  call 
Wilfrid  presented  himself  in  a  leisurely  way  from 
under  cover  of  the  trees;  stepping  into  the  square 
towards  the  three,  as  one  equal  to  all  occasions,  and 
specially  prepared  for  this.  He  was  observed  to 
bow  to  Mr.  Pericles,  and  the  two  men  extended 
hands,  Laura  Tinley  standing  decently  away  from 
them. 

Lady  Charlotte  could  not  contain  her  mystifica- 
tion. "What  does  it  mean?"  she  said.  "Wilfrid 
was  to  be  in  town  at  the  Ambassador's  to-night  I 
He  wrote  to  me  at  five  o'clock  from  his  club  !  Is 
he  insane  ?  Has  he  lost  every  sense  of  self-interest  ? 
He  can't  have  made  up  his  mind  to  miss  his  oppor- 


FROST   ON   THE   MAY   NIGHT.  317 

tunity,  when  all  the  introductions  are  there  !  Pain, 
like  a  good  creature,  Tracy,  and  see  if  that  is 
Wilfrid,  and  come  back  and  tell  me  ;  but  don't  say 
I  am  here." 

"  Desert  my  iDOst  ? "  Tracy  hugged  his  arms 
tight  together.     "  Not  if  I  freeze  here  !  " 

The  doubt  in  Lady  Charlotte's  eyes  was  transient. 
She  dropped  her  glass.  Visible  adieux  were  being 
waved  between  Mr.  Pericles  and  Laura  Tinle}^  on 
the  one  hand,  and  Wilfrid  and  Emilia,  on  the  other. 
After  which,  and  at  a  quick  pace,  manifestly  shiver- 
ing, Mr.  Pericles  drew  Laura  into  the  shadows,  and 
Emilia,  clad  in  the  immense  bearskin,  as  with  a 
ti'ailing  black  barbaric  robe,  walked  towards  the 
oaks.  Wilfrid's  head  was  stooped  to  a  level  with 
Emilia's,  into  whose  face  he  was  looking  obliviously, 
while  the  hot  words  sprang  from  his  lips.  They 
neared  the  oak,  and  Emilia  slanted  her  direction, 
so  as  to  avoid  the  neighbourhood  of  the  tree. 
Tracy  felt  a  sudden  grasp  of  his  arm.  It  was 
momentary,  coming  simultaneously  with  a  burst  of 
Wilfrid's  voice. 

"  Do  I  know  what  I  love,  you  ask  ?  Yes  !  if  in- 
tense miser}^  can  teach  a  man.  I  perish  for  you  ! 
And  now,  you  have  humbled  me  with  a  service,  and 
ask  me  if  I  know  what  I  love.     God  in  Heaven! 


318  mnLiA.  in  England. 

You  are  too  cruel !  I  love  your  foot  prints  !  Every- 
thing you  liave  touched  is  like  fire  to  me.  EmiUa  ! 
Emilia !  " 

"  Tlien,"  came  the  reply,  "  you  do  not  love  Lady 
Charlotte?" 

"  Love  her  !  "  he  shouted  scornfully,  and  subdued 
his  voice  to  add  :  "  She  has  a  good  heart,  and  what- 
ever scandal  is  talked  of  her  and  Lord  Eltham,  she 
is  a  vrell-meaning  friend.  But,  love  her !  You,  you 
I  love  !  You,  none  but  you  !  Love  you  utterly,  till 
I'm  mad  with  love — miserable  coquette  that  you  are. 
Oh,  God ! — forgive  me  Emilia !  I  don't  know  what 
I  say.  You  are  a  true  angel.  Heaven  knows  !  And 
as  to  the  bonds  that  hold  me,  I  could  break  them  by 
breathing  Lord  Eltham's  name  in  her  ear  once  ;  but 
no  !     I  will  never  do  that ! " 

"  And  there  jou  behave  like  a  generous  man,'* 
said  Lady  Charlotte,  walldng  straight  up  to  them. 

"  Well,  little  one  !  "  she  addressed  EmiHa ;  "  I  am 
glad  you  have  recovered  your  voice.  You  play  the 
game  of  tit-for-tat  remarkably  well.  "VYe  will  now 
sheath  our  battledores.     There  is  my  hand." 

All  were  silent.  The  unconquerable  aplomb  in 
Lady  Charlotte,  which  Wilfrid  always  artistically 
admired,  and  which  always  mastered  him ;  the  sight 
of  her  pale  face  and  courageous  eyes  ;  and  her  choice 


FROST   ON   THE   MAY   NIGHT.  319 

of  the  moment  to  come  forward  and  declare  her  pre- 
sence ; — all  fell  upon  the  furnace  of  "Wilfrid's  heart 
like  a  hissing,  quenching  flood.  In  a  stupefaction, 
he  confessed  to  himself  that  he  could  say  actually 
nothing.     He  could  hardly  look  up. 

Emilia  turned  her  eyes  from  the  outstretched 
hand,  to  the  lady's  face. 

"  AVhat  will  it  mean  ?  "  she  said. 

"  That  we  are  quits,  I  presume;  and  that  we  hear 
no  malice.  At  any  rate,  that  I  relinquish  the  field. 
I  like  a  hand  that  can  deal  a  good  stroke.  I  con- 
ceived you  to  be  a  mere  little  romantic  person,  and 
correct  my  mistake.     You  win  the  prize,  you  see." 

"  You  would  have  made  him  an  Austrian,  and  he 
is  now  safe  from  that.  I  win  nothing  more,"'  said 
Emiha.     "  You  may  take  my  hand,  if  you  will." 

Lady  Charlotte  went  through  the  ceremony. 

*'  On  condition  of  your  being  perfectly  dumb  b}' 
the  way,  I  wdll  accept  you  for  my  cavalier  homeward," 
she  said  to  Wilfrid.  # 

When  Tracy  and  EmiHa  stood  alone,  he  cried 
out  in  a  rapture  of  praise,  "  Now  I  know  what  a 
power  you  have.     You  may  bid  me  live  or  die." 

The  recent  scene  concerned  chiefly  the  actors  who 
had  moved  onward :  it  had  touched  Emiha  but 
lightly,  and  him  not  at  all.    But,  while  he  magnified 


320  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

the  glory  of  her  singing,  the  imperishable  note  she 
had  sounded  this  night,  and  the  power  and  the 
triumph  that  would  be  hers,  Emilia's  bosom  began 
to  heave,  and  she  checked  him  with  a  storm  of  tears. 
*'  Triumph  !  yes  !  what  is  this  I  have  done  ?  Oh, 
Merthyr,  my  true  hero  !  He  praises  me  and  knows 
nothing  of  how  false  I  have  been  to  j^ou.  I  am  a 
slave  !  I  have  sold  mj^self — sold  myself !  "  She 
dropped  her  face  in  her  hands,  broken  with  grief. 
"  He  fights,"  she  went  on ;  "he  fights  for  my  coun- 
try. I  feel  his  blood — it  seems  to  run  from  my  body 
as  it  runs  from  his.  Not  if  he  is  dying — I  dare  go 
to  him  if  he  is  dying!  I  am  in  chains.  I  have 
sworn  it  for  money.  See  what  a  different  man 
Merthyr  is  from  any  on  earth  !  Would  he  shoot 
himself  for  a  woman  ?  Would  he  grow  meaner  the 
more  he  loved  her  ?  My  hero  !  my  hero  !  and  Tracy, 
my  friend  !  what  is  my  grief  now  ?  Merthyr  is  my 
hero,  but  I  hear  him  —  I  hear  him  speaking  it 
into  my  ears  with  his  own  lips,  that  I  do  not  love 
him.  And  it  is  true.  I  never  should  have  sold 
myself  for  three  weary  j^ears  away  from  him,  if  I 
had  loved  him.  I  know  it  now  it  is  done.  I  thought 
more  of  my  poor  friends  and  Wilfrid,  than  of  Mer- 
thyr, who  bleeds  for  my  country !  And  he  will 
not  spurn  me  when  we  meet.     Yes,  if  he  lives,  he 


FIIOST    ON   THE   MAY   NIGHT.  321 

will  come  to  me  gentle  as  a  ghost  that  has  seen 
God!^^ 

She  ahandoned  herself  to  bitter  weeping.  Tracy, 
in  a  tender  reverence  for  one  who  could  speak  such 
solemn  matter  spontaneously,  supported  her  and  felt 
her  tears  as  a  rain  of  flame  on  his  heart. 

The  nightingales  were  mute.  Not  a  sound  was 
heard  from  bough  or  brake. 


VOL.   III. 


CHAPTEK  XXIII. 

EMILIAS  GOOD-BYE. 

A  T;^^lECK  from  the  last  Lombard  revolt  landed 
upon  our  shores  in  June.  His  right  arm  was  in  a 
sling,  and  his  Italian  servant  following  him,  kept 
close  by  his  side,  with  a  ready  hand,  as  if  fearing 
that  at  any  moment  the  wounded  gentleman's  steps 
might  fail.  There  was  no  public  war  going  on  just 
then  :  for  which  reason  he  was  eyed  suspiciously  by 
the  rest  of  the  passengers  making  their  way  up  the 
beach  ;  who  seemed  to  entertain  an  impression  that 
he  had  no  business  at  such  a  moment  to  be  crippled, 
and  might  be  put  down  as  one  of  those  foreign  fools 
who  stand  out  for  a  trifle  as  targets  to  fools  a  little 
luckier  than  themselves.  Here,  within  our  salt 
girdle,  flourishes  common  sense.  AYe  cherish  life ; 
we  abhor  bloodshed ;  we  have  no  sympathy  with 
your  juvenile  points  of  honom- :  we  are,  in  short,  a 
civilised  people  ;  and  seeing  that  Success  has  made 
us  what  we  are,  we  advise  other  nations  to  succeed,  cr 
be  quiet.     Of  all  of  which  the  gravely-smiling  gentle- 


Emilia's  good-bye.  323 

man  appeared  well  aware ;  for,  with  an  eye  that 
courted  none,  and  a  perfectly  calm  face,  he  passed 
through  the  crowd,  only  once  availing  himself  of 
his  brown-faced  Bej)po's  spontaneously  depressed 
shoulder  when  a  twinge  of  pain  shooting  from  his 
torn  foot  took  his  strength  away.  "While  he  re- 
mained in  sight,  some  speculation  as  to  his  nation- 
ality continued  :  he  had  been  heard  to  speak  nothing 
but  Italian,  and  yet  the  flower  of  English  cultivation 
was  signally  manifest  in  his  style  and  bearing.  The 
purchase  of  that  day's  journal,  giving  information 
that  the  Lombard  revolt  was  fully,  it  was  thought 
finally,  crushed  out,  and  the  insurgents  scattered, 
hanged,  or  shot,  suggested  to  a  young  lady  in  a 
group  melancholy  with  luggage,  that  the  wounded 
gentleman  was  one  who  had  escaped  from  the 
Austrians. 

"  Only,  he  is  English." 

"  If  he  is,  he  deserves  what  he's  got." 

A  stout  Briton  delivered  this  sentence,  and  gave 
in  addition  a  sermon  on  meddlmg,  short,  emphatic, 
and  not  imcheerful  apparently,  if  estimated  by  the 
hearty  laugh  that  closed  it;  though  a  lady  remarked, 
"  Oh,  dear  me  !     You  are  very  sweeping." 

"  By  George !  ma'am,"  cried  the  Briton,  holding 
out  his  newspaper,  "  here's  a  leader  on  the  identical 

Y   2 


324  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

subject,  with  all  1113^  views  in  it !  Yes !  those 
Italians  are  absiu'cl :  they  never  icere  a  people : 
never  agreed.  Egad  !  the  only  place  they're  fit  for 
is  the  stage.  Art!  if  you  like.  They  know  all 
about  colouring  canvas,  and  sculpturing.  I  don't 
deny  'em  their  merits,  and  I  don't  mind  listening 
to  their  squalling,  now  and  then  :  though,  I'll  tell 
you  what : — liave  you  ever  noticed  the  calves  of 
those  singers  ? — I  mean,  the  men.  Perhaps  not — 
for  they've  got  none.  They're  sticks,  not  legs. 
"Who  can  think  much  of  fellows  with  such  legs  ? 
Now,  the  next  time  you  go  to  the  Italian  Opera, 
notice  'em.  Ha !  ha ! — well,  that  would  sound  queer, 
told  at  second-hand  :  but,  just  look  at  their  legs, 
ma'am,  and  ask  yourself  whether  there's  much 
chance  for  a  country  that  stands  on  legs  like  those  ! 
Let  them  paint,  and  carve  blocks,  and  sing. 
They're  not  fit  for  much  else,  as  far  as  I  can  see." 

Thus,  in  the  pride  of  his  manliness,  the  male 
Briton.  A  shrill  cry  drew  the  attention  of  this 
group  once  more  to  the  person  who  had  just  kindly 
furnished  a  topic.  He  had  been  met  on  his  way 
by  a  lady  unmistakeably  foreign  in  her  appearance. 
"  Marini !  "  was  the  word  of  the  cry  ;  and  the  lady 
stood  with  her  head  bent  and  her  hands  stiffened 
rigidly. 


325 

"Lost  her  Imsband,  I  dare  say!"  the  Briton 
murmured.  '•'  Perliaps  he's  one  of  the  '  hanged,  or 
shot,'  in  the  list  here.  Hanged  !  shot !  Ask  those 
Austrians  to  be  merciful,  and  that's  their  reply. 
Why,  good  God  !  it's  like  the  grunt  of  a  savage 
beast !  Hanged  !  shot ! — count  how  many  for  one 
day's  work  !  Ten  at  Verona ;  fifteen  at  Mantua ; 
five — there,  stop  !  If  we  enter  into  another  alliance 
with  those  infernal  ruffians  ! — if  they're  not  branded 
in  the  face  of  Europe  as  inhuman  butchers !  if  I — 
by  George  !  if  I  were  an  Italian,  Fd  handle  a  musket 
mj^self,  and.  think  great  guns  the  finest  music  going. 
Mind,  if  there's  a  subscription  for  the  widows  of 
these  poor  fellows,  I  put  down  my  name  ;  so  shall 
my  wife,  so  shall  my  daughters,  so  we  will  all,  down 
to  the  baby  !  " 

Merthyr's  name  was  shouted  first  on  his  return 
to  England  by  Mrs.  Chump.  He  was  waiting  on 
the  platform  of  the  London  station  for  the  train 
to  take  him  to  Richford,  when,  "  Oh  !  Mr.  Pow's, 
Mr.  Pow's  !  "  resounded,  and  ^Mrs.  Chump  fluttered 
before  him.  She  was  on  lier  way  to  Brookfield, 
she  said  ;  and  it  was,  she  added,  her  firm  belief  that 
Heaven  had  sent  him  to  her  aid,  not  deeming  "  that 
poor  creature,  Mr.  Braintop,  there,  sufficient  for 
the   purpose.     For   what   I've  got   to  go  through, 


326  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

among  them  at  Brookfielcl,  Mr.  Pow's,  it's  perfectly- 
awful.  Mr.  Braintop,"  she  turned  to  the  j-outh, 
"  3'ou  may  go  now.  And  don^t  go  takin^  ship  and 
sailin'  for  Italy  after  the  little  Belloni,  for  ye 
haven^t  a  chance — poor  fella !  though  he  combs's 
hair  so  careful,  Mr.  Pow^s,  and  ye  might  almost 
laugh  and  cry  together  to  see  how  humble  he  is, 
and  audacious  too — all  in  a  lump.  For,  when  little 
Belloni  was  in  the  ship,  ye  know,  and  she  thinkin', 
*  not  one  of  my  friends  near  to  wave  a  handker- 
chief!  '  behold,  there's  that  boy,  Braintop,  just  as 
by  magic,  and  he  wavin'  his  best,  which  is  a 
cambric,  and  a  present  from  myself,  and  precious 
wet  that  night,  ye  might  swear;  for  the  quiet 
lovers,  Mr.  Pow's,  they  cry,  they  do,  buckutsful !  " 

"  And  is  Miss  Belloni  gone  ? "  said  Merthyr, 
looking  steadily  for  answer. 

"To  be  sure,  sir,  she  has ;  but  have  ye  got  a 
squeak  of  pain  ?  Oh,  dear !  it  makes  my  blood 
creep  to  see  a  man  who's  been  where  there's 
been  firing  of  shots  in  a  temper.  Ye're  vary  pale, 
sir." 

"  She  went — on  what  day  ?  "  asked  Merthyr. 

"  Oh !  I  can't  poss'bly  tell  ye  that,  Mr.  Pow's, 
havin'  affau's  of  my  own  most  urrgent.  But,  Mr. 
Paricles    has    got    her    at    last.      That's   certain. 


Gall'iis  of  tears  has  poor  Mr.  Braintop  cried  over 
it,  bein'  one  of  the  me w-in-a- corner  sort  of  young 
men,  ye  know,  what  never  win  the  garl,  but  cry- 
enough  to  float  her  and  the  lucky  fella  too,  and 
off  they  go,  and  he  left  on  the  shore/' 

Merthyr  looked  impatiently  out  of  the  window. 
His  wounds  throbbed  and  his  forehead  was  moist. 

"  With  Mr.  Pericles  ? "  he  queried,  while  Mrs. 
Chump  was  giving  him  the  reasons  for  the  imme- 
diate visit  to  Brookfield. 

'*  They^'e  cap'tal  friends  again,  ye  know,  Mr. 
Pow's,  Mr.  Paricles  and  Pole  ;  and  Pole's  quite  set 
up,  and  yesterday  mornin'  sends  me  two  thousand 
pounds — not  a  penny  less  !  and  ye'll  believe  me,  I 
was  in  a  stiff  gape  for  five  minutes  when  Mr. 
Braintop  shows  the  money.  What  a  temptation 
for  the  3'oung  man  !  but  Pole  didn't  know  his  love 
for  little  Belloni." 

"  Has  she  no  one  with  her  ? "  Merthyr  seized 
the  opportunity  of  her  name  being  pronounced  to 
get  clear  tidings  of  her,  if  possible. 

"  Oh,  dear,  yes,  !Mr.  Paricles  is  with  her,"  re- 
turned Mrs.  Chump.  "  And,  as  I  was  sayin',  sir, 
two  thousand  pounds  !  I  ran  off  to  my  lawyer ; 
for,  it'll  seem  odd  to  ye,  now,  Mr.  Pow's,  that  know 
my  'ffection  for  the  Poles,  poor  dears,  I'd  an  action 


328  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

against  ^em.  *  Stop  ut,'  I  cries  out  to  the  man  : 
— if  he'd  heen  one  o'  them  that  wears  a  wig,  I 
couldn't  ha'  spoken  so — '  Stop  ut/  I  cries,  not  a 
bit  afraid  of  'm.  I  wouldn't  let  the  man  go  on,  for 
all  I  want  to  know  is,  that  I'm  not  rrooned.  And 
now  I've  got  money,  I  must  have  friends  ;  for  when 
I  hadn't,  ye  know,  my  friends  seemed  against  me, 
and  now  I  have,  it's  the  world  that  does, — where'll 
I  hide  it  ?  Oh,  dear !  now  I'm  with  you,  I  don't 
mind,  though  this  brown-faced  forr'ner  serrvant  of 
yours,  he  gives  me  shivers.  Can  he  understand 
English  ? — becas  I've  got  ut  all  in  my  pockut !" 

Merthyr  sighed  wearily  for  release.  At  last  the 
train  slackened  speed,  and  the  well-known  fir-country 
appeared  in  sight.  Mrs.  Chump  caught  him  by  the 
arm  as  he  prepared  to  alight.  "  Oh !  and  are  ye 
goin'  to  let  me  face  the  Poles  without  any  one  to 
lean  on  in  that  awful  moment,  and  no  one  to  bear 
witness  how  kind  I've  spoken  of  'em.  Mr.  Pow's ! 
will  ye  prove  that  you're  a  blessed  angel,  sir,  and 
come,  just  for  five  minutes — which  is  a  short  time 
to  do  a  thing  for  a  woman  she'll  never  forget." 

"  Pray,  spare  me,  madam,"  Merthyr  pleaded. 
"  I  have  much  to  learn  at  Pdchford." 

"  I  canri't  spare  ye,  sir,"  cried  Mrs.  Chump.  "  I 
cann't  go  before  that  fam'ly  quite  alone.     They're 


Emilia's  good-bye.  329 

a  tarr'ble  fam'l}-.  Oli !  1^11  be  goin'  on  my  knees  to 
ye,  Mr.  Pow's.  Weren't  ye  sent  by  Heaven  now  ? 
And  you  to  run  away !  And  if  you^-e  woundud, 
won't  I  have  a  carr'ge  from  the  station,  which'll 
be  grander  to  go  in,  and  impose  on  •'em,  ye  know. 
Pray,  sir !     I  entreat  ye  ! " 

The  tears  burst  from  her  eyes,  and  her  hot  hand 
clung  to  his  imploringly. 

Merthyr  was  a  witness  of  the  return  of  Mrs. 
Chump  to  Brookfield.  In  that  erewhile  abode  of 
Fine  Shades,  the  Nice  Feelings  had  foundered.  The 
circle  of  a  year,  beginning  so  fairly  for  them,  en- 
folded the  ladies  and  their  first  great  scheme  of  life. 
Emilia  had  been  a  touchstone  to  this  family.  They 
could  not  know  it  in  their  deep  affliction,  but  in 
manner  they  had  much  improved.  Their  welcome 
of  Mrs.  Chump  was  an  admirable  seasoning  of 
stateliness  with  kindness.  Cornelia  and  Arabella 
took  her  hand,  listening  with  an  incomparable,  soft 
smile  to  her  first  protestations,  wliicli  they  quieted, 
and  then  led  her  to  Mr.  Pole ;  of  whom  it  may  be 
said,  that  an  accomplished  coquette  could  not  in  his 
situation,  have  behaved  with  a  finer  skill ;  so  that, 
albeit  received  back  into  the  house,  Mrs.  Chump 
had  yet  to  discover  wdiat  her  footing  there  was  to 
be,  and  trembled  like  the  meanest  of  culprits.     Mr. 


330  EMILIA  m  ENGLAND. 

Pole  shook  her  hand  warmly,  tenderly,  almost  tear- 
fully, and  said  to  the  melted  woman :  "  You^^e  right, 
Martha ;  it's  much  better  for  us  to  examine  accounts 
in  a  friendly  way,  than  to  have  strangers  and  law- 
yers, and  what  not — people  who  can't  possibly  know 
the  wliole  history,  don't  you  see — meddling  and 
making  a  scandal ;  and  I'm  much  obliged  to  you 
for  coming." 

Vainly  Mrs.  Chump  employed  alternately  innu- 
endo and  outcry  to  make  him  perceive  that  her 
coming  involved  a  softer  business,  and  that  to 
money,  she  having  it  now,  she  gave  not  a  thought. 
He  assured  her  that  in  future  she  must ;  that  such 
was  his  express  desire ;  that  it  was  her  duty  to  her- 
self and  others.  And  while  saying  this,  which  seemed 
to  indicate  that  widowhood  would  be  her  state  as 
far  as  he  w^as  concerned,  he  pressed  her  hand  with 
extreme  sweetness,  and  his  bird's  eyes  twinkled 
obligingly.  It  is  to  be  feared  that  Mr.  Pole  had 
passed  the  age  of  improvement,  save  in  his  peculiar 
art.  After  a  time  Nature  stops,  and  says  to  us, 
'  thou  art  now  what  thou  wilt  be.' 

And  yet,  in  the  case  where  those  who  were  inti- 
mate with  him,  had  learnt  to  think  him  false,  he  was 
sincere  enough.  There  was  nothing  in  him  unaf- 
fected, but  his  nervous  prostrations.     These  were 


331 

a  fearful  weapon  wielded  by  him  in  a  sentimental 
household,  without  his  being  absolutely  aware  of  its 
Excalibur-like  quality.  When  he  had  gained  his 
way,  or  the  exciting  cause  had  ceased,  he  soon  be- 
came as  gay  as  any  of  them.  For  he  was  one  of 
the  men  who  have  no  mental,  little  moral,  feeling. 
With  him  feeling  was  almost  entirely  physical,  as 
it  was  intensely  so.  That  is  the  key  to  Mr.  Pole, 
and  to  not  a  few  besides.  It  is  certainly  a  de- 
gree in  advance  of  no  feeling  at  all,  and^  may  give 
to  many  people  who  are  never  tried,  the  reputation 
of  good  parents,  jolly  friends,  excellent  citizens. 
A  sentimental  brood  may  well  spring  from  such  a 
stock. 

Cornelia  was  in  black  from  neck  to  foot.  She 
joined  the  conversation  as  the  others  did,  and 
indeed  more  flowingly  than  Adela,  whose  visage 
was  soured.  It  was  Cornelia  to  whom  Merthyr 
explained  his  temporary  subjection  to  the  piteous 
appeals  of  Mrs.  Chump.  She  smiled  humorously 
to  reassure  him  of  her  perfect  comprehension  of  the 
apology  for  his  visit,  and  of  his  welcome  :  and  they 
talked,  argued  a  little,  differed,  until  the  terrible 
thought  that  he  talked,  and  even  looked  like  some 
one  else,  drew  the  blood  from  her  lips,  and  robbed 
her  pulses   of  their  play.     She  spoke  of  Emilia, 


332  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

saying  plainly  and  humbly :  *'  All  we  have  is  owing 
to  her."  Arabella  spoke  of  Emilia  likewise,  but 
with  a  shade  of  the  foregone  tone  of  patronage. 
"  She  will  always  be  our  dear  little  sister."  Adela 
continued  silent  as  with  ears  awake  for  the  opening 
of  a  door.  Was  it  in  ever-thwarted  anticipation  of 
the  coming  of  Sir  Twickenham  ? 

Merthyr's  inquiry  after  Wilfrid  produced  a  mo- 
mentary hesitation  on  Cornelia's  part.  "  He  has 
gone  to  Verona.  We  have  an  uncle  in  the  Austrian 
service,"  she  said;  and  Merthyr  bowed. 

What  was  this  tale  of  Emilia,  that  grew  more  and 
more  i)erplexing  as  he  heard  it  bit  b}-  bit  ?  The 
explanation  awaited  him  at  Eichford.  There,  when 
Georgiana  had  clasped  her  brother  in  one  last 
jealous  embrace,  she  gave  him  the  following  letter 
straightway,  to  save  him,  haply,  from  the  false  shame 
of  that  eager  demand  for  one  which  she  saw  ready 
to  leap  to  w^ords  in  his  eyes.  He  read  it,  sitting  in 
the  Eichford  library  alone,  while  the  great  rhodo- 
dendron bloomed  outside,  above  the  shaven,  sunny 
sward,  looking  like  a  monstrous  tropic  bird  alighted 
to  brood  an  hour  in  full  sunlight. 

*'  My  Feiend  ! 

"  I  would  say  my  Beloved  !     I  will  not  write 


EMILLV'S    GOOD-BYE.  333 

it,  for  it  would  be  false.  I  have  read  of  the  defeat. 
Why  was  a  battle  risked  at  that  cruel  place  !  Here 
are  we  to  be  again  for  so  many  years  before  we  can 
won  God  to  be  on  our  side !  And  I — do  you  not 
know  ?  we  used  to  talk  of  it ! — I  never  can  think 
it  the  Devil  who  has  got  the  upper  hand.  What 
succeeds,  I  always  think  should  succeed — was  meant 
to,  because  the  sky  looks  clear  over  it.  This  knocks 
a  blow  at  my  heart  and  keeps  it  silent  and  only  just 
beating.  I  feel  that  you  are  safe.  That,  I  am 
thankful  for.  If  you  were  not,  God  would  warn 
me,  and  not  let  me  mock  him  with  thanks  when  I 
pray.  I  pray  till  my  eyelids  burn,  on  purpose  to 
get  a  warning  if  there  is  any  black  messenger  to  be 
sent  to  me.     I  do  not  believe  it. 

"  For  three  years  I  am  a  prisoner.  I  go  to  the 
Conservatorio  in  Milan  with  Mr.  Pericles,  and  my 
poor  little  mother,  who  cries,  asking  me  where  she 
vnll  be  among  such  a  people,  until  I  wonder  she 
should  be  my  mother.  'My  voice  has  retm-ned. 
Oh,  Merthyr  !  my  dear,  calm  friend  !  to  keep  calling 
you  friend,  and  friend,  puts  me  to  sleep  softly ! — 
Yes,  I  have  my  voice.  I  felt  I  had  it,  like  some 
one  in  a  room  with  us  when  we  will  not  open  our 
eyes.  There  was  misery  everywhere,  and  yet  I  was 
glad.     I   kept  it   secret.     I   began   to  feel   myself 


334  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

above  tlie  world.  I  dreamed  of  wliat  I  would  do 
for  everybod3\  I  thought  of  you  least !  I  tell  you 
so,  and  take  a  scourge  and  scourge  myself,  for  it  is 
true  that  in  her  new  joy  this  miserable  creature  that 
I  am  thought  of  you  least.  Now  I  have  the  i^unish- 
ment! 

"  My  friend !  the  Poles  were  at  the  mercy  of  Mr. 
Pericles  :  AVilfrid  had  struck  him  :  Mr.  Pericles  was 
angry  and  full  of  mischief.  Those  dear  people  had 
been  kind  to  me,  and  I  heard  they  were  poor.  I 
felt  money  in  my  breast,  in  my  throat,  that  only 
wanted  coining.  I  went  to  Georgiana,  and  oh  !  how 
truly  she  proved  to  me  that  she  loves  you  better 
than  I  do.  She  refused  to  part  with  money  that 
you  might  soon  want.  I  laid  a  scheme  for  Mr. 
Pericles  to  hear  me  sing.  He  heard  me,  and  my 
scheme  succeeded.  If  Italy  knew  as  well  as  I,  she 
would  never  let  her  voice  be  heard  till  she  is  sure 
of  it : — Yes  !  from  foot  to  head,  I  knew  it  was  im- 
possible to  fail.  If  a  country  means  to  be  free,  the 
fire  must  run  through  it  and  make  it  feel  that  cer- 
tainty. Then — away  the  whitecoat !  I  sang,  and 
the  man  twisted  as  if  I  had  bent  him  in  my  hand. 
He  rushed  to  me,  and  offered  me  any  terms  I  pleased, 
if  for  three  years  I  would  go  to  the  Conservatorio 
at  Milan,   and  learn  submissively.      It   is   a  little 


Emilia's  good-bye.  335 

grief  to  me  that  I  think  this  man  loves  music  more 
deeply  than  I  do.  In  the  two  things  I  love  best, 
the  love  of  others  exceeds  mine.  I  named  a  sum 
of  money — immense  1  and  I  desired  that  Mr.  Peri- 
cles should  assist  Mr.  Pole  in  his  business.  He 
consented  at  once  to  everything.  The  next  day  he 
gave  me  the  money,  and  I  signed  my  name  and 
pledged  my  honour  to  an  engagement.  My  friends 
were  relieved. 

"  It  was  then  I  began  to  think  of  you.  I  had 
not  to  study  the  matter  long  to  learn  that  I  did  not 
love  3"ou :  and  I  will  not  trust  my  own  feelings  as 
they  come  to  me  now.  I  judge  myself  by  my  acts, 
or,  Merthyr !  I  should  sink  to  the  ground  like  a 
dead  body  when  I  think  of  separation  from  you  for 
three  years.  But,  what  am  I  ?  I  am  a  raw  girl. 
I  command  nothing  but  raw  and  flighty  hearts  of 
men.  Are  they  worth  anything  ?  Let  me  study 
three  years,  without  any  talk  of  hearts  at  all.  It 
commenced  too  early,  and  has  left  nothing  to  me 
but  a  dreadful  knowledge  of  the  weakness  in  most 
people  :  — not  in  you  ! 

"  If  I  might  call  you  my  Beloved  !  and  so  chain 
myself  to  you,  I  think  I  should  have  all  your  finn- 
ness  and  double  my  strength.  I  will  not ;  for  I  will 
not  have  w^hat  I  don't  deserve.      I  think  of  you 


336  EMILIA   IX   ENGLAND. 

reading  this,  till  I  try  to  get  to  you ;  my  heart  is 
like  a  bird  caught  in  the  hands  of  a  cruel  boy.  By 
what  I  have  done,  I  know  I  do  not  love  you.  Must 
we  half-despise  a  man  to  love  him  ?  May  no  dear 
woman  that  I  know  ever  marr}^  the  man  she  first 
loves  ?  My  misery  now  is  gladness,  is  like  rain- 
drops on  rising  wings,  if  I  say  to  myself  '  Free ! 
Free,  Emilia  ! '  I  am  bound  for  three  years,  but  I 
smile  at  such  a  bondage  to  my  body.  Evviva  !  my 
soul  is  free  !  Three  years  of  freedom,  and  no 
sounding  of  myself — three  years  of  growing  and 
studying ;  three  years  of  idle  heart ! — Merthyr !  I 
throb  to  think  that  those  three  years — true  man ! 
my  hero,  I  may  call  you ! — ^those  three  years  may 
make  me  worthy  of  you.  And  if  you  have  given 
all  to  Italy,  that  a  daughter  of  Italy  should  help  to 
return  it,  seems,  my  friend,  so  tenderly  sweet — 
here  is  the  first  drop  from  my  eyes  ! 

"  I  would  break  what  you  call  a  Sentiment :  I 
broke  my  word  to  Wilfrid.  But  this  sight  of  money 
has  a  meaning  that  I  cannot  conquer.  I  know  you 
would  not  wish  me  to  for  your  own  pleasure;  and 
therefore  I  go.  I  hope  to  be  growing ;  I  fly  like  a 
seed  to  Italy.  Let  me  drill,  and  take  sharp  words, 
and  fret  at  trifles  !  I  lift  my  face  to  that  prospect 
as  if  I  smelt  new  air.     I  am  changing — I  have  no 


Emilia's  good-bye.  337 

dreams  of  Italy,  no  longings,  but  go  to  see  lier  lilve 
a  macliine  ready  to  do  my  work.  Whoever  speaks 
to  me,  I  feel  that  I  look  at  them  and  know  them. 
I  see  the  faults  of  my  country — Oh,  beloved 
Brescians  !  not  yours  !  not  yours,  Florentines  !  nor 
youi's,  dear  Venice  !  We  will  be  silent  when  they 
speak  of  the  Milanese,  till  Italy  can  say  to  them, 
*  That  conduct  is  not  Italian,  my  chilcben.'  I  see 
the  faults.     Nothing  vexes  me. 

"  Addio  !  My  friend,  we  will  speak  English  in 
dear  England  !  TeU  aU  that  I  shall  never  forget 
England !  My  English  Merthyr  !  the  blood  you 
have  shed  is  not  for  a  woman.  The  blood  that  you 
have  shed,  laurels  spring  from  it !  For  a  woman, 
the  blood  spilt  is  sickly  and  poor,  and  nourishes 
nothing.  I  shudder  at  the  thought  of  one  we  knew. 
He  makes  Love  seem  like  a  yellow  light  over  a 
plague-spotted  city,  like  a  painting  I  have  seen. 
Good-bye  to  the  name  of  Love  for  three  years ! 
My  engagement  to  Mr.  Pericles  is  that  I  am  not  to 
write,  not  to  receive  letters.  To  you  I  say  now, 
trust  me  for  tlu'ee  years !  Merthyr's  answer  is 
already  in  my  bosom.  Beloved ! — let  me  say  it 
once — when  the  answer  to  any  noble  thing  I  might 
ask  of  you  is  in  my  bosom  instantly,  is  not  that  as 
much  as  marriage  ?     But  be  under  no  deception. 

VOL.    III.  z 


338  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND. 

See  me  as  I  am.    Oh,  Good-bye  !  good-bj-e  !    Good- 
bj^e  to  you  !     Good-bye  to  England  ! 
"  I  am, 
"  Most  humbly  and  affectionately, 
*'  Your  friend, 
"  And  her  daughter  by  the  mother's  side, 

"  Emilia  Alessandra  Belloni." 


This  is  the  ending  of  "  Emilia  in  England." 


LRADBURY   ASD    E    XSH,    PRIKTERS,    AVHITEFRIARS. 


^^■"WOM^ 


»>Y. 


u-^\ 


.>#^